Our Playlist
by cheaterinpink
Summary: Caroline is sent back to 1864 to kill Katherine to save Elena. After falling for Damon pre-vampire and befriending Katherine inadvertently, will Caroline be able to stay true to her promise to her friends back in 2010? Pairings: D/C, S/K, M/E. AU.
1. Hands of Time

**Our ****Playlist  
**_Prologue: Hands of Time_

**Summary:** Caroline is sent back to 1864 to kill Katherine to save Elena. After falling for Damon pre-vampire and befriending Katherine inadvertently, will Caroline be able to stay true to her promise to her friends back in 2010? Pairings: D/C, S/K, M/E. AU

**IMPORTANT A/N:** **please note that this is an AU story, if you did not read the summary properly. Also, Caroline's still human and in the unknown about the vampires at the start of this story. I would say this takes place sometime after the Season 1 finale, so ignore the entire season 2 for this story. :)**

_Another day is gone  
__Washed away with sorrows that you dwelled upon  
__And, as the moon is rising, you think to yourself  
__I could be gone, if I go now  
_******- Hands of Time, Rachel Diggs**

* * *

Bonnie directed all her magic at the woman easily throwing off Damon and Stefan to the sides. Concentrating her mind on the power flowing through her veins, focusing the ball of energy she valiantly projected at the evil creature, she felt her resolve tighten as she caught sight of her best friend slumped, unconscious, in a corner of the room. The cuts, the bruises… No matter what, she had to keep fighting, for Elena's sake, for _her_ sake. If she lost her best friend after all this… she refused to acknowledge the possibility.

"_Katherine, I swear to Gawd, I'__ll rip off your head!"_ Damon shouted, his death glare unwavering even as she easily delivered blow after blow to him. He was nothing if not resilient.

Katherine let out a dainty little laugh; it reminded Bonnie of an ignorant child's giggle, making her cringe. The four-hundred year old vampire flicked away Stefan's hits as deftly as wiping dust off oneself.

"You'll have to do better than that boys," she coo-ed heartily, "Did I not teach you anything back in 1864?"

"You taught us never to trust you," Stefan growled. Bonnie had to hand it to him; despite having been battered to near-exhaustion on an animal diet – not to mention that the last time he'd fed had been two days ago -, Stefan continued fighting. She smiled grimly as she felt a little of the resistance she'd been facing from Katherine fall away as Damon slammed his hand into Katherine's face. Katherine's cool face slipped for a moment as she snarled, landing a solid kick to Damon's groin. He didn't budge an inch.

_Come on_, she willed, gritting her teeth as she flexed her fingers, urging the power along the invisible line linking her to Katherine. Katherine had a wall up so high and solid, it was like the Great Wall of China. Her efforts were mere pinpricks to the slowly accumulating cracks in her defense. If she could just hold out a little longer…

Suddenly, Stefan was launched across the room. Unable to stop herself, Bonnie turned to watch as he flew into the wall, the force of Katherine's ruthless throw propelling him through the concrete. The gaping black hole stared back at them. With a sinking feeling, Bonnie knew Stefan was out of the game. She turned back in time to see Damon skid back a few feet as Katherine punched him in the jaw.

"You silly boys," she growled, vamping out. She glared at Damon as he tried to collect his breath, muscles flexing even in his obvious worn state.

"It's so sickening how you protect that fragile, stupid human being," Katherine drawled, glancing at Elena in disgust. "It's _clear_ how much my boys have changed since I last saw you."

Damon narrowed his eyes at her, jaw tightening. Bonnie swallowed a mouthful of air greedily. Before she knew it, she crumpled to the ground, too beaten to even mutter a word. It didn't appear that Katherine noticed her, though she caught Damon flick a glance in her direction. She hoped against hope that Damon could take Katherine down.

"What happened to the man that didn't care?" Katherine asked, training her gaze on Damon's cold face. "What happened to the man that was so _pathetically_ loyal in his love for me, his creator? Enough of that nice play; how about some actual competition?" She smirked, stepping closer to the still man. When he didn't react, she rolled her eyes, moving her hands flippantly.

"You know what? It doesn't matter. I only want Stefan." She tilted her head to the right, twirling a piece of loose hair between her fingers, watching Damon's face carefully. "After I get rid of Elena, of course."

They moved too fast for Bonnie to follow. It seemed that at the same time Damon moved to clasp his hands around his former love's neck, Katherine side-stepped him and dipped down to snap Elena's neck.

"NO!" Damon roared, as Bonnie let out a tiny whimper.

He plunged toward Katherine with renewed energy, managing to swipe at her head before she blurred out of the room. He stopped for only a second to fix the witch with a gaze so powerful she felt the little breath she could grasp at get sucked out of her mouth.

"Elena. Then Stefan," he demanded, before speeding out the door, racing after Katherine.

_As if she would have done it any other way_, Bonnie argued, bitter and tired. She let herself rest for a moment more, because no matter how much she wanted to prove to herself that Elena wasn't dead – _couldn't_ be dead -, the heavy waves of exhaustion pulled her down, trying to lull her into sleep. Finally, with all the will power she possessed, she hoisted herself onto her hands and then, shakily, to her feet. With every ounce of control she could muster, she stumbled, leaning most of her weight on the wall, towards Elena. The walk halfway across the room could have well been a climb up Mount Everest.

Finally, collapsing next to her broken friend, her gaze raked over the pale form, twisted at unnatural angles, noticing the bleeding cuts and the large bruises and, most blatantly, the broken neck. The brunette's head slanted in an impossible angle, unkempt hair sprayed over her face. Bonnie felt the urge to cry but couldn't, because her body was too tired to even allow herself to grieve.

"_Elena…"_ she gasped, taking her friend's hand in hers. She felt the stark coldness of death sweep through her at the touch, even with the almost non-existent power she had within her. If she had enough energy, she knew she could bring back her best friend. Even though some part of her deep down knew she couldn't – her Grandma was proof of that – she held on to the desperate hope. It was too much.

"_Stefan,"_ she managed to croak, though in her mind she was screaming, before the waves tore her down under and her head hit the floor.

* * *

When she woke up, she found herself lying on a queen-sized bed and it was eerily quiet. By the fading thin strip of light that sifted through the blinds covering the window, she could make out two hunched figures at the doorway. As she stirred, weakly pushing herself onto her elbows, one of them turned to look at her.

She carefully leaned back against the headboard, slowly rubbing her forehead as she struggled to recall the events that had happened before she fell asleep. All she could remember was a lot of fighting and all that energy draining out from her soul as she focused her energy on _something_…

When it hit her, it tore her breath from her lips.

"Elena –" she gasped.

"Dead," a detached voice answered promptly from the doorway. Her wondrous gaze turned to fix on him.

"Damon? Stefan?" she muttered, slightly confused.

For a long moment, neither answered. Finally, the slightly taller figure made his way towards her. She recognized him to be Stefan as he passed by the stream of light.

"Where am I?" Bonnie asked, feeling stupid for asking such a mundane question when there were more pressing issues at hand – like Elena. Her lips quivered at the thought. She didn't want to think about it, even as it tried to claw its way back from the recesses of her mind.

"My bedroom," Stefan answered.

"Is Katherine… dead?"

The question echoed in the brutal silence. In the dim light, Bonnie watched Stefan's head tilt in Damon's direction. After a few more moments, Damon murmured, _"Unfortunately… no."_

His words crashed against her ears. The roar of pain drowned her over and over again. With no more resolve, Bonnie finally let herself slip into that horrible place within her. It was a long time before she spoke again. Brokenly, she asked, "Where's Elena?"

"I –" Damon started.

"_We_ made sure she received a respectful funeral. What she rightfully deserves," Stefan interrupted, looking down at his hands. Damon closed his mouth.

_Elena doesn't deserve a funeral_, Bonnie wanted to bite back. _Elena's too young to die!_ The look on Damon's face as he travelled to the bed, passing through the beam of light, reflected her thoughts. The image of Elena, broken and still, fought its way into her vision and it took a truckload of effort for her to clamp down on it. She burst out into tears shortly.

"It's okay –" Stefan began, only to be sharply reprimanded by his older brother.

"No, it's _not_."

Through blurry vision, Bonnie registered Stefan's apologetic nod, saw the appalled expression directed at himself and Damon's glare. She knew Stefan was just trying to help but, gawd, she wished he wouldn't. Right now, apathetic Damon seemed like the better person to have for comfort in such a situation.

_But he isn't so apathetic anymore, is he?_ Bonnie thought.

"Wait…" Bonnie managed between sniffles, "if Elena's funeral already took place… how long have I been out?" She sat, rigid.

"You've been out for a week," Stefan informed regretfully. He reached out, as if to wrap his arms around the distressed witch as she burst into even louder cries, but she shook her head wildly.

How could she have been unconscious for so long? She felt so hollow, even worse than before, knowing that she'd let her friend down even more than before.

"We have to save her," Bonnie whimpered, curling into herself.

"We can't," Stefan said gently, watching her with sad eyes.

"We _have_ to," Bonnie insisted, slightly louder than before. "Elena _shouldn't_ have died. Elena _should_ still be alive."

"We should have given her vampire blood when we had the chance," Stefan murmured so softly Bonnie nearly didn't hear it.

"_I _wanted to, if you recall correctly," Damon bit out. "Oh, but _Saint Stefan_ didn't want to. _Couldn't_. It was above his righteous morals to turn the person he loved into a vampire so she'd still be here."

"_Stop it_," Stefan croaked miserably, head hanging low. Bonnie glanced at Damon. Despite looking absolutely livid, she saw Damon visibly take a breath and reel his anger in.

"We can still get her back," Bonnie repeated herself.

"Bonnie, you're the only witch we know of," Stefan replied. She waited expectantly for him to go on but when he didn't elaborate, she turned indignant.

"You don't think I can do it?" she lashed out.

"You're weak, Bonnie. Don't even try to argue that point," Damon muttered.

"I can do the spell after I've gotten enough rest," Bonnie countered. Even though every cell in her brain wanted to do the spell right now so she could have her best friend back right then and there.

"We'll see," Damon said, ignoring the furious look Bonnie threw in his direction.

"For now, get some sleep," Stefan comforted, patting her shoulder.

"I already slept for a week," Bonnie tried protesting, but even as she said it she could feel the energy sapping out of her body. Stefan tried for a wry smile.

"We'll talk later," Stefan said gently, yet firmly, giving her a last look before leaving the room. Bonnie sighed heavily, lying down again. Damon suddenly appeared by her side, looking down at her, his face a cold mask.

"Are you going to bite me?" Bonnie asked, mock-jokingly. Funnily enough, despite hating Damon and warning Stefan mere hours ago that she would take him and his brother out if they so much as spilled a single drop of innocent blood, she couldn't muster any feelings of aggression or fear around him. At least, for the moment. Maybe it was because her exhaustion left her magic barred from her usage. Or maybe it was because she'd seen the lengths Damon had gone to protect Elena. For that, she respected him as much as she respected Stefan.

"I will if you ask me to," Damon replied smartly. Bonnie turned her head to give him a frown.

"I know you can't blow my head up in your current state, so don't even try to make any threats."

"I wasn't going to," Bonnie said. Damon cocked his head, waiting, but she left it at that. Realizing that, he dived into his real topic of interest.

"I was thinking you could do a spell to send one of us back to 1864. We can kill Katherine then and prevent her from ever killing Elena. You know, get rid of the root cause."

Bonnie's eyebrows shot up so high, they went up behind her fringe. "Do you have any idea how tough that kind of spell is? Going back into time? And not just a few days but a whole hundred and forty something years! Do you even know what that would change?"

"Huge risk, chance of me not returning, blah, blah, blah – got it. Can we skip the minor details and fast-forward to your answer, which would be 'yes'?"

Bonnie shook her head, mouth open, and raised a finger. "One – _you_? _You_ want to be the one to go back in time to kill Katherine? Two – _minor details_? Going back a hundred and forty… six years and changing even _one _little event could have major consequences on events that happen after that!"

"Why not me?" It was Damon's turn to be indignant. "You don't think I can do it?" Bonnie rolled her eyes, realizing he was mimicking her. "And, yeah, about that… whatever else happens, nothing matters as long as Elena's safe and _alive_."

"Even if that meant you and Stefan… never meeting her?"

"Killing Katherine wouldn't stop us from coming back to Mystic Falls," Damon replied instantly.

Bonnie shook her head. "If you kill her before you guys got turned into vampires, it would."

Damon cocked his head, eyebrows drawn. After a moment, he muttered, "I'll just kill her after we've turned then."

"There has to be some other spell to bring Elena back from the dead," Bonnie said, refusing to think his way. "Something not as drastic, not as complicated. Maybe we could reverse time by, like, a day. Give you enough time to stop Aunt Jenna from inviting Katherine into the house. Time to give Elena blood or kill Katherine before she can hurt her."

"Bonnie, Katherine's killed so many people in the past. _Besides_ Elena. As part of the morality police, don't you feel obligated to save all those lives lost because of her?"

At that, Bonnie looked at him sharply, studying him. Slowly, not really sure she wanted the answer, she asked, "Since when did you care about other people's lives?"

Damon let a small smile flitter across his lips. "My answer would be so clichéd you'd give yourself your own head explosion."

Bonnie smiled a little at that, though she persisted. "No ulterior motives besides saving Elena and other innocent people's lives?"

"Nope," he stated, popping the 'p'.

Bonnie stared skeptically at him before he rolled his eyes and muttered, "I might have, but even if I did I wouldn't tell you." Before Bonnie could retort, he continued hurriedly. "So, if you can manage a spell like that, would you send me back?"

During the entire conversation, Bonnie had been thinking over her answer very carefully. Although she thought Damon's plan was much more complicated than the situation itself strictly called for, since she was sure there were easier spells, she wasn't against saving all the innocent lives Katherine had taken, especially that of her best friend. She'd already known her answer the moment Damon brought up the morality police dig.

"Yes… and no."

"What do you mean yes and no?" Damon argued, anger seeping onto his face.

"I mean… I'm willing to do the spell. But I'm not sending _you_ back."

"What – _Stefan?_ _Pfft_." He rolled his eyes.

"No, not Stefan either. I think you both have to go find Katherine in this current time period and stake her. Just in case the spell doesn't work."

"It will work. I _will_ kill her," Damon started, getting worked up at the thought that they still didn't think he was over Katherine. So, yeah, he'd kissed her a few hours ago on the porch. But if he'd known it was her and not Elena, he would have put a stake through her heart in a heartbeat. That bitch was more pain and agony than love was worth.

"It's not foolproof," Bonnie stated firmly. "I could mess up the spell and, knowing how big it is, I might not be able to do it again. You could kill her before you become a vampire. She might be able to escape death, no matter how resolute you are in killing her. Many things could happen to ruin the plan."

It took Damon a while to reply but finally he nodded unhappily. "So, I assume you're going?"

"No. You're going to need my help in killing Katherine in this time period."

Damon's eyebrows drew together. "Then, who are you going to send back? Not Zac Efron, I hope."

"I'm surprised you even know who Zac Efron is," Bonnie muttered under her breath, earning a quick amused smile from Damon.

"But… I was thinking more along the lines of Caroline."

* * *

**a/n:** i know caroline wasn't in this chapter but i was trying to set up the situation in the present first. she'll definitely be around in the next chapter. despite the big role bonnie plays in this prologue, she isn't really one of the main characters of this fic. she'll pop up here and there but that's all. enjoy. :)


	2. It's not Funny

**Our Playlist  
**_Chapter 1__: It's Not Funny_

_It's not funny when you leave your house without an umbrella,  
__Then it rains, you're an unhappy fella  
__It's not funny, it's not funny  
_**- It's Not Funny, Run D.M.C **

* * *

**Recap:**

"_It will work. I will kill her," Damon started, getting worked up at the thought that they still didn't think he was over Katherine. So, yeah, he'd kissed her a few hours ago on the porch. But if he'd known it was her and not Elena, he would have put a stake through her heart in a heartbeat. That bitch was more pain and agony than love was worth._

"_It's not foolproof," Bonnie stated firmly. "I could mess up the spell and, knowing how big it is, I might not be able to do it again. You could kill her before you become a vampire. She might be able to escape death, no matter how resolute you are in killing her. Many things could happen to ruin the plan."_

_It took Damon a while to reply but finally he nodded unhappily. "So, I assume you're going?"_

"_No. You're going to need my help in killing Katherine in this time period."_

_Damon's eyebrows drew together. "Then, who are you going to send back? Not Zac Efron, I hope."_

"_I'm surprised you even know who Zac Efron is," Bonnie muttered under her breath, earning a quick amused smile from Damon._

"_But… I was thinking more along the lines of Caroline."_

Damon's eyebrows shot up to the heavens at that. "_Blondie_? You want _Blondie_ to do the dirty work?"

"Don't call her that," Bonnie snapped. She closed her eyes as a pang of pain hit her side. Damon continued on as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"There are so many things wrong with that. Not only does she _not_ know about the existence of vampires, might I remind you, there's no way she'll be able to kill a vampire, especially in human form. Not strong enough. Too Barbie to pick up a stake. Not one to get her hands dirty. Plus, well…" His face of incredulity melted into uneasiness then.

"What?" Bonnie demanded, suddenly alert. When Damon Salvatore fails to make you want to punch him in the face, you know something's wrong.

"Caroline's in the hospital."

Bonnie's eyes widened. First Elena, now Caroline? "If that's a joke, it's not funny."

Damon raised an eyebrow at Bonnie. "If _that_ was a joke, it's not funny."

"Why's she in the hospital?" Bonnie steamrolled ahead, not pausing to wonder why the vampire brothers hadn't brought up Caroline's condition earlier.

"That jerkface Tyler crashed his car and Caroline ended up with internal bleeding."

"Is she going to be okay?" To her, the world was spinning and nothing she could do would stop it. It was the antithesis of the way she felt when using her witch powers.

"Uncertain," was all Damon would hedge on.

She let out a shuddering breath, slowly pulling the covers up to her elbows. Damon, uncharacteristically, slapped away her hands and tugged the comfortable up to her shoulders. She swung her gaze to his face, stunned.

"Why Caroline?" Damon asked. She could hear the disapproval in the undercurrents of his voice.

"Why not Caroline?" Bonnie challenged weakly. Damon snorted, barely giving her a glance.

"Okay, fine," Bonnie conceded, shifting a bit to make herself more comfortable. "So, like you said, Caroline is not the most ideal person to involve. But, what other choice do we have? I don't know anyone else we can send who has enough motivation to save Elena. If we just explain all this supernatural crap to her and make her _understand_, I know she'll do it in a heartbeat."

She trained her gaze on his face and waited as he sat in silence. Finally, he said, "So, how much of this supernatural crap is me?"

"You're the whole dung poo cake."

It was weird that in such a tragic, horrible mess, Damon Salvatore, the ruthless, evil vampire-man-thing she'd used to think was the enemy, could elicit a laugh from her, even if humourless.

"Caroline can't do it," Damon persisted.

"Can you think of anyone else?" Bonnie disputed, watching him expectantly. When moments passed and he still hadn't spoken a word, she nodded. "If we're going to do this, we're doing it my way."

Damon shrugged. "It's not going to work."

She took it as his acceptance. With that out of the way, she turned her concern back to the well-being of her only best friend left. She wanted to see her but even just thinking about it reminded her of her current lethargy. She didn't know whether Caroline was going to live or not just on the doctor's care but she sure as hell wasn't going to leave it to fate. If she couldn't save Caroline herself, she'd send someone who could.

"Give Caroline some blood," she demanded.

Damon's gaze shifted to meet hers for a second before his lips lifted into a reluctant smile. "Great minds think alike."

And then he was gone.

* * *

Was it weird that the first thing that came to his mind when he walked through the glass doors was that Stefan would have made a terrible doctor?

Seriously. He could smell blood even thirty rooms down; _that's_ how potent it was here. He chuckled lowly, thinking of Stefan pouncing on a wounded patient before the paramedics could even get him on the operating table. Since the hospital existed to save lives, and a vampire's very nature was to take lives without batting an eyelid, Stefan as a doctor would drastically redefine irony.

He hadn't been to the hospital since Sheriff Forbes told him quietly, to mask her fear and tears, about Caroline's accident. As he strode past the depressingly white walls, lined with seats that held sleepy-looking family members waiting for loved ones, he thought about the reason he was making Bonnie do that spell. If he thought about it enough, it shamed him that it was more selfish than selfless.

So he didn't think about it enough.

He slid into Room 403, checking that no one was in the room before locking the door behind him and walking over to Caroline's bed. In the dim light, her tilted face was sickly pale and she looked even more vulnerable and weak than the morning she'd woken up with a bite to her neck. He hovered at her bedside for a moment longer before leaning forward to trail a finger along the side of her face. If she weren't so whiny and scared and pathetic, maybe he'd –

"What are you doing?"

_Mutt_, Damon thought. He recalled seeing him at Elena's funeral, tears flowing freely from his eyes until the end. Slowly, he stood back up straight and turned to face the blonde-haired annoyance. Mutt stood expectantly at the door entrance of the connecting washroom. Damon wondered how he could have missed that out.

"Well?" Mutt asked when Damon still didn't reply. "That's my girlfriend you're touching."

"Possessive boyfriends are not romantic," Damon answered disapprovingly.

Mutt chose to ignore him, stepping closer instead. "Damon Salvatore, right?"

"Mutt, right?" Damon asked drily.

"Matt," Mutt corrected sharply.

"Whatever. Does it look like I care?" Blurring to stand inches away from Mutt, he gave the blonde a second to widen his eyes before capturing his shocked gaze with his. The conversation was starting to bore him.

"You're going to go straight home, tuck yourself into bed and sleep the sleep of the dead. You're not going to remember I was here. Got it?"

"I'm not going to remember you were here," Mutt repeated monotonously.

Damon stepped back to let Mutt walk to the door but a thought popped into mind. "Oh, I almost forgot."Grabbing Matt by the shoulders, he arrested his gaze again.

"From now on, you're going to introduce yourself as Mutt to everyone." Damon smiled faux-serenely. "Gawd only knows how much more humour people need in their lives."

Mutt mutely nodded before leaving the room. Damon quickly locked the door behind him before returning to Caroline's bedside. Without hesitation, he bit into his wrist and held Caroline's lips apart, letting the blood drip into her mouth. When the colour started returning to her skin, he licked his wound to stop it from bleeding and leaned against the wall to wait.

Caroline started to stir. At first, it was just the slight trembling of her fingers but then he heard the soft whispers of the bed sheet as she shifted infinitesimally. Eventually her eyelids started flickering until, with no time seeming to have passed, her light blue eyes met his.

It took her a while to recognize him but she finally managed. _"Damon?"_

"The one and only."

She made a sound that was almost a scoff, turning her gaze away to take in her surroundings. Groaning, she asked, her voice rough from disuse, "What happened?"

"Near-death experience number five hundred happened," Damon responded smoothly, noticing with ease the light of surprise that entered and left her eyes in the same moment. "Does a car crash ring a bell?"

She drew in a breath, sighing heavily as she tried to sit herself up. Damon was suddenly pushing the button on the bed railing, making one half of her bed elevate so that she was sitting upright. She looked from Damon to the wall to her bedside, blinking. _How had he –?_ She decided she was just confused.

"Yeah, I guess." Flashes of a windscreen shattering and glass hitting her blew through her mind. She could remember screaming at Tyler to watch out, and then a fence looming in front of them, too close to avoid. As she returned to the present, she realized that Damon had been saying something.

"– need you to come to the Boarding House in the morning."

"Huh?"

She watched Damon roll his eyes. "I'll pick you up the moment they discharge you." With that, he turned to leave.

"Wait," she called, struggling to understand what was going on. Damon stood a few feet away from her bed, back to her, impatient. "What are you doing here?"

"Playing god," he answered shortly, "with a small g." She blinked, ready to hit him with another question, but when she opened her eyes the room was empty.

* * *

When he came back the next day, he found Caroline sitting innocently on a couch in the lobby, in her normal fashionable wear, drinking Evian and texting. The image would have made him laugh, if there weren't so many people around. It was like nothing had happened, or that she was too used to near-death experiences.

"Hey Blondie," he said, by way of greeting. She glanced up at him, nodding silently, before going back to her text. A moment later, she snapped her phone close and stood up.

"Damon," she said crisply, not really looking at him.

"Bonnie wants to see you."

Her gaze snapped to his face, expression curious. "Why didn't she come here herself?"

"You'll see," Damon said evasively, striding off to his car.

"What kind of an answer is that?" she argued, following him. The sound of her high heels clicking against the linoleum tiles grated on his nerves. That, and her annoying voice. He swore, the only other person who could irritate him as fast was Stefan. But at least Stefan didn't have a high-pitched voice.

"Get in the car," he said, unlocking his blue Mustang and opening the door for her, gesturing for her to get in.

"Where are you taking me?"

"The Boarding House."

"Why? I don't want to go there. Can you just take me to Bonnie's house?"

"Bonnie's at the Boarding House."

"Why?"

"You ask a lot of questions," Damon remarked, feeling irritation swell within him. He didn't particularly want to compel her but he could already feel his restraint wavering. If she kept it up…

"Well, what did you expect? I've been out for a week!"

"Just get in the car," Damon muttered, rubbing the spot in between his eyebrows.

When she still didn't get in, he rolled his eyes. "Do you need me to bow or something?" For effect, he did just that.

"Who are you and what have you done to Damon Salvatore?" was all she said, smiling a little, before slipping into the car. He shut the door behind her.

"So, really. Why couldn't Bonnie come see me? The way you said it made it seem like she didn't visit me the entire time I was out, which was a week from what the Nurse told me." She looked at him expectantly. He ignored her.

"And, why were you in my room last night?" She drew her eyebrows together, thinking back. "You said something about playing god… with a small g…" She tossed him a weird look. He kept his gaze on the road ahead.

"You didn't happen to see Matt last night, did you?" Caroline asked next. She was nothing if not persistent. "The Nurse said that he was there last night but left just before I woke up." Damon sighed mentally, pushing on the accelerator a bit more. The less time he had to spend with her, the better.

Caroline sighed. Was it any good asking him anything? He was like a rock, honestly. After their falling out, which, if she was being honest with herself, she couldn't remember all that clearly, she'd only run into him a couple of times, and it was always around Elena.

That reminded her…

"The Nurse didn't say anything about Elena. Did she visit? Is she at the Boarding House too?" It was only by her careful observation of Damon that she caught the slight stiffening of his shoulders.

"You'll get your answers soon enough. Just shut up for now."

"What's going on?" she demanded, interest piqued considerably. "Damon, tell me what's going on or I swear to gawd –"

Damon swerved the car off the road, killing the engine. Grabbing her shoulders, he looked her right in the eyes.

"You will stop asking questions for the remainder of this ride. In fact, you will stop talking until we get to the Boarding House. Understand me?" He shook her roughly for good measure.

"What the hell, Damon?" Caroline shouted, shaking his hands off her and moving to slap him. He fixed her with a dangerous glare, one that had her hand faltering and falling down to her lap, his eyes flickering to the necklace she wore. He groaned, remembering that Elena had given vervain to most of her friends. Apparently not Mutt though. Vervain was such a pain in the ass.

"You are so irritating, Blondie." He restrained himself from speeding over to the nearest DIY store and snatching up duct tape. "You do not want to annoy me right now."

"Yeah, well, _you're_ annoying _me_ right now," was all Caroline managed to get out before Damon's fierce glare silenced her once more. With a final warning look, he pulled back onto the road.

He switched on the radio to the maximum as a precaution.

* * *

"Caroline!"

Bonnie launched herself at her friend, grinning widely as Caroline hugged her back. She pulled back, the beginnings of tears forming in her eyes.

"Why are you crying?" Caroline asked, appalled.

Bonnie shook her head, relief overwhelming her. She'd fallen asleep before Damon had come back last night and had woken up to a Damon-less Boarding House. Hence, she hadn't been sure if Caroline was okay or not. Her lousy timing was going to be the death of her.

"I'm just glad you're okay," Bonnie managed to say before the tears spilled over.

"Aww!" Caroline gushed, pulling Bonnie back into another hug. "You're too sweet. But, hey, I'm fine now, so you don't have to cry."

"Yeah," Bonnie agreed, smiling as she wiped away the wetness on her cheeks. They turned as they heard an impatient cough.

"As much as I'm always _thrilled _to watch a girl cry-fest, I think we have some more pressing matters to deal with," Damon interrupted sarcastically. Bonnie's gleeful mood was instantly shattered. She sighed as Caroline shot him a glare.

"He's right. Come on Caroline. We need to talk." Bonnie took Caroline's hand and pulled her towards the living room, with Damon tailing behind. Caroline noticed Stefan enter quietly from a side door and offered him a small smile, which he returned weakly. Once they were all gathered in the centre, she looked around at them all. The tension in the room was palpable.

"What's going on? Why are you guys acting so serious? No one died, right?" Caroline joked.

When a deep silence met her, her smile dimmed a little and uncertainty entered her eyes. "What, I'm out for a week and someone close to me dies? Come on guys, you're scaring me." She turned from Damon's cold mask to Bonnie's tearful gaze to Stefan's downcast expression.

"What happened?" she demanded to know, voice turning rock hard.

Bonnie gulped, eyes filling with tears at having to bear such terrible news to a clueless Caroline.

"_Elena's… dead."_

It was like a million jet planes were tunneling through the sky above, raining black bullets down on her. At the horrible admission, the eerie, eerie silence of the people around her mixed with the awful, awful screams of the jets made her want to die.

"Sh – she _can't_ be," Caroline denied, shaking her head, staring at them all like they were monsters. "How can you say such a thing?"

"Caroline, calm down –"

"_Calm down? Calm down!_ How can I when you guys are lying like _this_ to me? It's such an awful thing to do!"

"We're not lying, Blondie –"

"This is a sick joke, you guys! And it's _not_ funny!"

"Caroline, listen to me, please!" Bonnie implored, pain corrupting her features. It killed her to see her best friend think she was playing her an awful ruse when she would never even consider that when it came to Elena, but it killed her even more to see the pain that was slowly eating Caroline up. She couldn't imagine what it was like to be dead to the world and then suddenly wake up to find everything had changed. Well, actually, she could, but the difference between her and Caroline was that she'd known everything before she'd passed out while the last thought Caroline had had before going unconscious was _'we're going to hit!'_.

"_No!"_ Caroline snarled, a huge, racking sob ripping through her frail frame. "It's not possible, it's not possible…"

Damon sighed, strolling over to Caroline and ripping off her necklace. The vervain burned his skin but he ignored the pain, forcing Caroline's chin up so that her eyes met his. Her eyes immediately glazed over.

"You will stop yelling and calm down –"

"Damon, _don't_," Stefan warned, stepping closer. Damon waved him away, continuing as if nothing had happened, "We need you to sit and listen. You will not speak until we tell you to. Got it?"

"I will calm down and listen. I will not speak."

He led her to a chair and sat her down in it before turning to the others. Stefan had 'disapproval' written all over his face while Bonnie looked conflicted, a look half-furious and half-relieved on her face.

"Which one of you wants to do the explaining?" Damon asked, making his way over to his alcohol.

"Anyone wants Bourbon?"


	3. Up is a Long Way from Here

**Our Playlist  
**Chapter Two: Up is a Long Way from Here

_What is it about morning light  
__That makes everything alright?  
__All right  
__Well, it feels like I have just woke up in a world  
__Where down is up and up is a long way  
__From here  
_**- Alice in Wonderland, Lisa Mitchell**

* * *

**Recap:**

"_No!" Caroline snarled, a huge, racking sob ripping through her frail frame. "It's not possible, it's not possible…"_

_Damon sighed, strolling over to Caroline and ripping off her necklace. The vervain burned his skin but he ignored the pain, forcing Caroline's chin up so that her eyes met his. Her eyes immediately glazed over._

"_You will stop yelling and calm down –"_

"_Damon, don't," Stefan warned, stepping closer. Damon waved him away, continuing as if nothing had happened, "We need you to sit and listen. You will not speak until we tell you to. Got it?"_

"_I will calm down and listen. I will not speak."_

_He led her to a chair and sat her down in it before turning to the others. Stefan had 'disapproval' written all over his face while Bonnie looked conflicted, a look half-furious and half-relieved on her face._

"_Which of you wants to do the explaining?" Damon asked, making his way over to his alcohol._

"_Anyone wants Bourbon?"_

* * *

She went about things in a very mechanical way.

First, she draped her scarf delicately around her coat rack, taking a few seconds to run her fingers over the silky material. Then, she placed her bag softly on her vanity table. All she could hear was noise, and it screamed at her, flushing everything out, and it screamed it _loud loud loud_. She shifted it around until she found a satisfactory position for it. The noise exacerbated and she jerked. She shifted it some more till she found an excellent place for it.

_Why Elena?_ She thought, over and over and over again.

_Looking into Damon's eyes had been like falling into a warm azure sea. She could feel something softer than a blanket wrap around her, drawing her into him. His soft, charming words floated towards her, arresting her attention. As soon as they reached her ears, she could feel their iron grip on her arms. For a moment, she could hear someone else's words as if she was hearing under water but, all too soon, the voice her body was seemingly irrevocably tuned into clamped down on her every thought, blocking out everything else. It chilled her more than anything._

Sighing so softly no one _un-supernatural_ should have been able to hear it, she padded over to her closet, slowly removing her jacket and folding it neatly on a hanger.

The noise picked up, circling around her like a swarm of bees.

She took a long time tugging off her heels, luxuriously pulling them off her feet before letting them lean against the closet wall. Walking back to her vanity table, she took her hairbrush and ran it lightly through her hair once, twice, thrice… She stopped counting after eleven.

"Looks like you're taking it well," came a snarky voice from the window.

"_I will calm down and listen. I will not speak."__ She felt the words force their way out from her lips._

_As soon as he looked away, ice cold water drenched her and she let out a gasp._

_Except… there was no gasp._

It took her a few seconds to respond. After setting her hairbrush down, she turned slowly to face Damon. She stared at him for a few moments, while he settled himself comfortably on her window seat. She opened her mouth to speak but before the words could fall out, she realized dully that nothing she could say would matter to him anyway.

_Cold-hearted bastard._

So, instead of replying, she turned away and grabbed her PJs. Once in the bathroom, she slid down to the floor, pulling her clothes and arms around her legs and curling up against the door. She would draw warmth in any form.

_It was a __very curious thing. As Damon led her to the sofa, she could feel herself trying to scream, trying to move, but no matter how strong her will, it was like there was a wall between her and her body. It was kind of like how she imagined a paralysed man would feel, except that she _could_ move, just that her movements were controlled by another's will. Much like a puppet._

_Inside was a nightmare and she imagined that, from the outside looking in, she was as still as a statue.__ It _scared_ her._

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to blacken everything, erase everything. It just came rushing back.

Outside, Damon looked at the door silently.

"_There's a lot to take in," Bonnie finally started, after a __hurried hushed conversation with Stefan. She watched Bonnie take a tentative step towards her._

"_I'm sorry Damon did that to you" – she watched helplessly as Bonnie threw Damon a furious look, to which he replied with a careless shrug – "but you were freaking out" – _well, DUH_, Caroline thought, the words sounding like echoes in some gigantic cave_, still am FYI _– "and we just need you to listen."_

_Bonnie took a deep breath, glancing over at Stefan. He gave her a comforting look._

"_Elena didn't die… naturally. Someone killed her."_

_Even though she was still struggling to figure out what was happening to her, she couldn't help but feel herself latch onto the words. Elena had been _murdered_? A cold shudder ran through her._

"_Look, it's hard to explain but just listen with an open mind, okay?" Bonnie pleaded._

Like I can do anything else_, Caroline was begging to differ._

"_Basically, there are vampires in this world." Bonnie seemed to sense that if Caroline could she would have scoffed at that. She quickly went on. "Stefan and Damon are two such things."_

_At that, Caroline's eyes went wide. Somehow, knowing there were such 'vampires' close to her and that she had actually known them before _knowing_ them made it a little easier to accept. She tried looking back at the way Damon had treated her – he'd seduced her quite a while back (EW, she'd had sex with a _vampire_?); she'd woken up to aches in her neck… She remembered feeling like she would do anything for him… And then, right then, the thing he did with his eyes to make her like _this, _totally unresponsive… It was starting to become less impossible._

"_Elena was a doppelganger. She looked exactly like this other vampire, Katherine, and Katherine killed her the same night you got into your car crash."_

Coincidence much?_ She thought. _Wait. Was my car crash related to the murder at all? This is so confusing.

"_So, the reason I'm telling you this is because you're my friend –"_

"Right_…" Damon cut in. She turned her head just in time to see Damon wince and drop his glass of alcohol, his hands flying up to clutch his head. Caroline raised her eyebrows, shocked (though no one else noticed). Bonnie was staring intently at him, a fire in her eyes she'd only seen one other time, when they were doing the séance. When Bonnie turned back to Caroline, she sent her an apologetic smile._

"_I forgot to tell you… I'm a witch."_

I thought we already established you were just clairvoyant_, Caroline thought._

"_Anyway, I'm telling you this also so that you can save Elena." If Caroline could move then, she would have straightened up. As it was, she was all ears, not only just because she had no other choice._

"_I found a spell in the grimoire – a witch's spell book – that will send a chosen candidate back in time. We were thinking that _you_ could, uh, go back in time and kill Katherine so that she would never have been around to kill Elena." She paused, as if to wait for any comment from Caroline._

She clutched her clothes as if they were a lifeline to the past, a past where Elena was there, where she didn't feel like _this_. She recoiled in horror as the first tear after listening finally came. Even as she sobbed, she forced her fist against her mouth, shuddering as she tried to wrench away from the hole.

"_Katherine was in Mystic Falls in 1864. That was the year she turned Damon and Stefan. Besides killing Katherine, maybe you could also stop Damon from turning into a vampire." Bonnie smirked as Damon shot her a glare. But Caroline saw something else. In the second it took to conjure up the expected reaction, Damon's face had radiated something else she couldn't quite place. She let it go as Bonnie started talking again._

"_Anyway… Please, Care. We need your help. Damon, Stefan and I have to try and kill Katherine in the present time, just in case, and that's why none of us can go back." Bonnie threw a pleading look in her direction just as she felt the heavy cloud surrounding her lift. She felt, rather than knew, that she could move again._

_She stared at the people in front of her. Damon, in his eternally smirking, irksome form, Bonnie, with her worried, sad look, and Stefan, who looked the same as he always did. Extra broody. She was an utter mess._

"_I don't know the first thing about killing a vampire."_

_Damon smirked triumphantly. "Told ya Blondie wouldn't do it."_

"_I didn't say I wouldn't," Caroline snapped, "I just said I don't know _how_ to kill a vampire."_

"_We're short on time. A week's already passed; who knows where Katherine is by now. Maybe you could do some kind of spell to protect and strengthen Caroline?" Stefan suggested._

_Bonnie nodded slowly. "I'll do that. Don't worry Care. You'll be fine."_

_Slowly, she stood, pushing herself up by leaning on the armrest._

"_When?" Even to her, her voice sounded shaky. "When am I going back?" Silently, she wondered if she also meant when she would ever be fine again._

"_Oh boy," Damon muttered, rolling his eyes and swallowing his Bourbon._

"_As soon as possible," Bonnie replied, hope flooding the undercurrents of her voice. "Once I figure out the spell completely and get the ingredients. Tomorrow afternoon, hopefully."_

_Caroline nodded absently, her mind a hundred miles away._

"_I'll see you tomorrow then," she murmured quietly before taking a step towards the door._

"_Where are you going?" Bonnie asked, taking an awkward step towards Caroline. Caroline looked even more pallid than before. She could feel the sudden distance between them, like they were winter islands separated by a cold sea. She could reach out but she didn't know how to. It was like their seventeen years of friendship had suddenly faded into nothing and all the happy sleepovers, funny moments and birthday parties couldn't account for the rock their friendship had abruptly been hurled into._

"_Home," Caroline muttered, finally finding the energy within her to make it to the door._

"_Care…"_

"_I'll see you tomorrow, Bon."_

_And then she was out of the door, the cold night wind blowing her hair back. The moon was shining down on her and, while this usually comforted her, it held no warmth for her that night. Hitching her bag higher on her shoulder, she pulled off her high heels and started running._

_The noise bombarded her as s__he passed through the town square, as her reflection dashed past the grocery store's window._

_As she turned the corner into her block, she finally slowed down, yanking on her high heels before walking daintily back to her house._

* * *

She felt alone.

She felt needed.

Fiddling with the hem of her PJs, she banged her head against the door a couple of times as she tried to decide what to do. Her hands were permanently attached to her cheeks to dry the wetness.

She'd been thinking of Elena and Bonnie the entire run home. Their childhood, when they loved going to the old well, trying to find fish in its inky depths. The days they gathered at Elena's house to finger-paint. The school productions where she was the star and Bonnie and Elena were supporting characters. Always supporting. The time they tried smoking for the first time – it nearly choked her and Bonnie but Elena was the worst, coughing up a black ball the size of Mars.

Then, the day Elena woke up in the hospital to find out her parents were dead. In that moment, while running, she'd realized how Elena had felt and it sent her spiraling into a whole new empathy level. There'd always been something wedged between them since that day, with Elena more concerned with documenting her memories with her parents and spending more time with her brother and Caroline more concerned with being a social butterfly. Bonnie stood between them, in the middle ground.

She'd cried enough. Forcing herself to her feet, her breaths coming out short, she stumbled over to the sink, washing away the dried tears on her cheeks. Quickly changing, she resolved that, no matter how much she didn't understand the whole concept of vampires, she was going to do her very best to save Elena. If there was even a tiny chance Elena could come back, she'd take it.

Because a life without one of her best friends was too hard to bear. She smiled into the mirror, but quickly dropped it. It was too fake.

She flung the bathroom door open.

Damon was lying on her bed.

The sight looked so ridiculously normal that it was easy to forget he was a vampire. Maybe it was also because she hadn't adjusted to the idea of it yet. They stared at each other for a moment before Caroline was able to find her voice. It was shaky.

"Tell me about Katherine."

* * *

"Katherine is manipulative. Evil. Selfish. You _cannot_ trust her. Pretty much everything she says is a lie."

He watched as she listened. Recounting Katherine to Caroline was almost as torturous as seeing Katherine snap Elena's neck and knowing if he'd been one second, _just one second_, faster, that could have been the difference for her. He shook his head, pushing it back.

"When you meet her, keep your guard up. Do _not_ take anything she says at face value. Do not underestimate her. She's a cold, heartless bitch and she will _not_ hesitate to kill you, if she wants to. The chances of you managing to kill her are miniscule – I'm talking bacteria, if chance was a microscope – so never, _never_ assume you have the upper hand, even when you seem to. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best."

Caroline nodded, seemingly in deep concentration. He decided to cut to the chase.

"Quite honestly, you are one of the _worst_ people we could send back to 1864," he drawled, allowing his disapproval to colour his voice. He ignored the glare she shot him. "The only way you'll be able to kill Katherine as a mere _human_ is by taking her by total surprise. That's the only way any human could ever kill a vampire, unless the vampire was stupidly willing to die. No matter how normal us vampires look, we are deadly. Predators by nature. We can move ten times faster than the average human," – at that, Caroline flashed back to the moment in the hospital when Damon was suddenly at her bedside – "and that's just a newborn. Katherine, being five hundred, would probably be twenty times faster.

"We're also much stronger and ruthless. We can hear anything within a mile's radius. We're, unfortunately, slaves to the sun, but Katherine had a powerful witch on her side, Emily Bennett, Bonnie's ancestor, who helped her acquire daylight rings. Nifty little things. We heal incredibly quickly, so if you ever actually manage to wound Katherine, she won't stay like that for longer than a minute. In fact, a minute's stretching it."

Damon sighed, closing his eyes. "Being a vampire yourself would have greatly increased the probability of winning." Truthfully, he'd considered turning Caroline into a vampire himself, whether she wanted it or not (it would just be too easy, a mere flick of his fingers), but decided that there'd be too many newborn problems to deal with.

"How do you kill a vampire?" Caroline asked, refusing to be deterred by a pessimistic Damon (or realistic, as he would put it). She hadn't really thought about how dangerous her mission was, considering how consumed she was with the death of her best friend. She didn't want to frighten herself out of possibly saving her friend.

"Decapitation, wooden stake to the heart, burning to death," Damon said, ticking them off his fingers. "Those will all kill a vampire. You can weaken a vampire by throwing vervain at them. In fact, if you get it into their system, they'll be down for quite a while. Depending on the potency, of course. Keep vervain with you; vampires can't compel you while it's on or in you."

A startled realization entered Caroline's mind, and Damon could see her face change because of it. "You tried compelling me in the car."

Damon sighed, pouting. "Elena gave you some vervain in the necklace."

Caroline smiled slightly. Elena had always had her back.

"Anyway," Damon continued, impassive face sliding back on, "there are a million and one ways Katherine can kill you –"

"How encouraging," Caroline interrupted, rolling her eyes.

" – and if she does, you're going to be dead forever. However, if you have vampire blood in your system when you die, you'll turn into a vampire."

"_What_?" Caroline squeaked.

Wordlessly, Damon slid out something from his pocket, passing it to Caroline's shaking fingers. She stared at it for a long moment, disbelievingly. Even as she suspected what it was, her brain wouldn't compute it.

"Is this your… _blood_?" she whispered, horrified.

"I want you to drink it if you ever suspect Katherine's on to you. Or if you're hurt. It'll heal your wounds quickly as well. I already gave you blood last night, to wake you up from your coma, and it'll probably last you for a few days. Maybe three, at best. That vial will last you four days."

"I'm not drinking vampire blood," Caroline insisted, staring at it with disgust. She shoved it, none too ceremoniously, onto her vanity.

"You'll be amazed at what you'll do to survive," Damon answered darkly. She swallowed. He sat up suddenly, and she recognized the look on his face. It was the same one she saw when Bonnie had joked (or so she thought) about stopping Damon from turning.

"I need you to do me a favour."

Caroline scoffed. "In your dreams."

"It's as much as a favour to me as a favour to yourself. Trust me," Damon assured, looking right at her. She raised her eyebrows at that. Somehow, she strongly doubted it.

He studied her face, watching as he said, "I want you to prevent me from turning."

Caroline's jaw nearly hit the floor. "Am I hearing you right?"

Abruptly, Damon was standing inches from her. Gasping, she tried taking a step back but was held in place by his sinfully strong grip. She saw his eyes dilate and widened her eyes, knowing she was about to be compelled and was totally powerless to it.

"You will do everything in your power to kill Katherine as soon as possible. You will also make sure that I do not turn into a vampire. I don't care how you do that – make sure I don't drink vampire blood, make sure I don't get killed if I have it in my system. If I've already died, kill me while I'm transitioning. Do anything and everything to stop me from turning."

"I will kill Katherine and stop you from turning," she repeated monotonously. Satisfied, Damon released her, retreating to his spot on the bed. Caroline stood still for a few more moments, trying to register what had just happened. Trying to find her voice, she asked, shaken, "_Why_?"

"Hmm?" Damon looked over to her indifferently.

"You just compelled me to kill you –"

"Stop me from turning."

"Same difference. I would have done it willingly. You didn't have to compel me. Now that you have, I have to kill you no matter what."

"That was contradictory," Damon commented, blinkingly. After pausing for effect, he continued, "Having second thoughts? I thought I was doing you and society a good deed."

"But why?" Caroline persisted, eyebrows drawn together. "Why would you want to be killed?"

"That's for me to know and for you to dot dot dot." He smiled serenely.

"But… you'll never meet Elena." Caroline frowned, truly bewildered by his choice. Not that she would ever want to change his mind but that didn't mean she understood why.

"Here," Damon said, eyes trained above her head. "Keep it with you at all times. Don't put it anywhere obvious. She could rip it off and you'd be putty in her hands." He shoved a packet of vervain into her hands. She remembered him pulling it off her neck like it needed no effort, and gripped it tightly. "I suggest you ingest it. Either that or put it in a secret compartment in your underwear."

"Why are you trying so hard to protect me?" Caroline wondered.

"You mean, why am I trying so hard to kill Katherine," Damon correctly, smiling coldly, "There's a big difference." He fixed her with a cryptic look, tilting his head. "I'll pick you up tomorrow at noon."

The curtains fluttered behind him peacefully.

* * *

"Only one bag?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, staring at him indignantly. "And what exactly were you expecting? A carriage?"

"More like five porters and more than a few suitcases," Damon replied, lifting her bag. "Gawd, that's light. What did you bring?" He moved to unzip it but Caroline snatched it away before he could see its contents.

"Ever heard of privacy?" she asked rhetorically. Of course he answered.

"No. It's right next to 'good morals' and 'drinking animal blood'."

"You're impossible," she huffed, hitching the bag onto her shoulders. "Let's go."

"No sobbing farewell with your mom?" Damon asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

"Already did. We said goodbye at breakfast, before she went off to work. You're going to have to come up with an excuse for my absence." She blinked, feeling disoriented. In between the tragedy that was Elena and the fear that was of going back in time, she hadn't thought she'd have space in her chest to feel sad for parting with her mother and possibly never seeing her again. So, it'd surprised her when her heartstrings had tugged when her mother smiled, slightly misty-eyed, telling her how happy she was that she was alright. Clearing her throat, she made for the doorway. "I'll meet you at the car. You can exit through the window, I guess."

"Actually," Damon intercepted her, blocking the doorway, "I thought we'd take a different mode of transport."

Caroline raised an eyebrow. "Really? And what would that be?"

Without warning, Damon scooped her up, bridal style. Startled, Caroline yelped, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck. Her next thought was to shove him away like a hot potato but before she could berate him, she felt herself falling.

Except that she was falling forward and straight. And it didn't even feel like falling. Stunned into silence, she watched as her surroundings blurred, the familiar scene of her bedroom melting into the smudge of her neighbours' houses, then drowning in a whirlwind of brown and green, which she supposed was the forest. The initial shock had morphed into fear but quickly dissolved into exhilaration. It was amazing moving at such a speed. Feeling dizzy, she buried her face in Damon's neck, but not without shrieking with insane excitement. She didn't even care that it was Damon; she clung to him tightly, grinning madly.

She wasn't sure, but she thought Damon might have smiled into her hair.

All too soon, Damon was slowing down, starting to merely walk, and she could see the beginnings of the Boarding House through the trees. She checked her watch over his shoulder. He'd gotten them across the town in under a minute. She peered up at him, amazed.

"That was so much better than the Aerosmith Rock N Roller Coaster," she breathed, unable to keep the thrill out of her voice.

"Thought you'd need some fun, given the circumstances."

She looked up at him, studying him carefully. He was pretty much a walking contradiction, possibly even bipolar. So visibly annoyed at her the day before and so tolerant (possibly tolerable too) the next. Even so, she reluctantly smiled, forgetting to release her arms from around his neck now that they weren't flying over the ground. "Thanks."

He glanced down at her as they emerged from the forest. They slipped into silence until Damon lowered her to the porch floor. He made his way through the front door, not waiting for her, but as she followed him, he turned around. His intense blue eyes met hers.

"Thanks Blondie."

She watched him as he turned the corner, leaving her alone. She knew exactly what he was thanking her for. Smiling just a tiny bit, she whispered back, knowing he would hear her, "Don't mention it."

* * *

**February ****1864**

Emily was sewing when she felt it.

It was merely a pin drop in a nuclear explosion, a mere drift in a tornado. But she still felt it, and her skin still crawled.

She peeked out of the carriage to see her Mistress, Miss Katherine, press a poor man to the trunk of a tree and bite his neck savagely. The familiar tinge of sadness flirted through her every time an innocent man was harmed at her Mistress' hands. Even so, she smiled a little, knowing that things would turn around. She could feel a new presence, one that was so unique and different and radiant from the others in the town they were making their way towards – Mystic Falls.

Her smile widened as her powers extended. Their savior would come in the form of a blonde, blue-eyed girl.

_Caroline._


	4. Hide and Seek

**Our Playlist  
**Chapter three: Hide and Seek

**a/n:** from here until further notice, the story will be set in 1864. any scenes in the 'present' will be dated as 2010.

* * *

_Oily marks appear on walls  
__Where pleasure moments hung before the takeover,  
__The sweeping insensitivity of this still life  
_**- Hide and Seek, Imogen Heap**

**

* * *

**

**Recap:**

**February**** 1864**

_Emily was sewing when she felt it._

_It was merely a pin drop in a nuclear explosion, a mere drift in a tornado. But she still felt it, and her skin still crawled._

_She peeked out of the carriage to see her Mistress, Miss Katherine, press a poor man to the trunk of a tree and bite his neck savagely. The familiar tinge of sadness flirted through her every time an innocent man was harmed at her Mistress' hands. Even so, she smiled a little, knowing that things would turn around. She could feel a new presence, one that was so unique and different and radiant from the others in the town they were making their way towards – Mystic Falls._

_Her smile widened as her powers extended. Their savior would come in the form of a blonde, blue-eyed girl._

Caroline_._

* * *

"OUCH!"

Her cry echoed in the empty forest. A single bird sprung up into the air, laughing at her.

Caroline rubbed her head where it had hit a bunch of rocks. The pain blasted through her head and when she closed her eyes, red streaks and splotches appeared on the underside of her eyelids. She couldn't remember a time she'd hit herself worse. In all honesty, the car accident had been almost painless. As she recalled, she hadn't even realized anything was wrong with her until black had filled her vision.

As the pain abated to a loud throb, she took in her surroundings. Even though Bonnie had performed the spell in the early afternoon, here – _in 1864_, she reminded herself, still a bit dumbstruck – it was either past dusk or before dawn. When she looked up, she saw only the faintest silhouettes of the treetops, the occasional splattering of stars in between and black everywhere else.

_Cold._

The word flashed in front of her and, as if on cue, she felt goosebumps rise on her skin as the night wind picked up. "Damn it," she muttered, glancing down at her bare arms and legs. She'd only been wearing a tank top and shorts when they'd done the spell (given that it'd been summer then) and the thought that she'd be landing in Mystic Falls during winter had never occurred to her. If the others had known, they hadn't told her.

_Thanks Bonnie_, she thought, but even as she projected negative feelings towards her friend, she couldn't stop herself from smiling just a bit. Truthfully, it was _kind_ of funny.

Deciding she'd better find a place to hold up at, and _fast_, she scanned the woods, hugging her bag tightly against her chest, hoping to draw some warmth from it. The scenery on her left and right were pretty much identical. Fear setting in, she forced herself to choose a direction – after all, any place was better than here, _right_? Hopefully she'd find help.

The woods seemed to stretch on and on. The fact that it was getting darker and darker creeped her out even more. She tried to recognize any distinctive structure in the woods she'd come across during her numerous explorations with Elena and Bonnie, even though there was a good chance that the land had changed since then, so that she might discover her bearings. She might as well have been hoping elves were real.

_Then again, if vampires were supposedly real, why not elves?_ She huffed crossly.

Her teeth were beginning to chatter. Her legs felt like blocks of ice; it was getting harder to move them.

"Help!" she cried, knowing it was stupid to think that anyone in their right mind might be out here. Knowing that she still had to try. "_Help_!"

The darkness seemed to be moving. The trees seemed to have drawn closer around her. She felt suffocated. Her cries bounced back to her. Her fingers brushed against the icy bark of a tree. Her eyes started slipping close.

_How terribly tragic_, she thought sluggishly, as she strained to hear for signs of help (or danger), _I'm going to die of the cold, not because of a vampire._

_Crunch._

She heard it through the haze. _Was that my imagination?_ Still, she listened carefully, trying to hear over the whispers of the wind.

_Thunk__._

She'd definitely heard _that_. Hope flaring within her chest, she cleared her throat, trying to alert whoever, or whatever, was out there where she was. Forget if he or she or it was dangerous; she couldn't miss the chance to find warmth.

"Help," she murmured, trying to raise her voice, trying and failing. The black pressed in on her. She couldn't even hear the dry calls of the wind anymore; sudden silence replaced it.

And then, there was a hand on her arm.

* * *

"Help me," she whimpered, even as the stranger wrapped a coat around her. Immediately, the wind stopped bruising her, and she felt cocooned, but her skin was still frozen, hard. It was difficult to open her eyes but she forced herself to. She felt herself being lifted up, pulled against a person's chest, and then the ground moving beneath her. Someone was speaking – it sounded like a guy – and she strained to pick out the words.

"Why are you out here so late?"

A shiver, of the warm variety, ran through her. The voice sounded so familiar! Yet, she couldn't quite place it. Tilting her head up, she sought out the man's face. Since it was so dark, it was hard to find, but as they passed through a clearing where delicate strands of the moonlight struggled down to them, she gasped, eyes widening despite the cold.

"Damon?"

He looked sharply down at her. For a moment, she wondered if it really was him. He looked the same, but different too. He still had those blue eyes she could never forget, even if she wanted to hate him, the handsome cheekbones and the strong jaw. But his hair was curly and his lips were not upturned in a smirk. It couldn't be him. What were the chances of finding him in the forest?

But it was. It _had_ to be.

"Do I know you?" she heard him ask. "Forgive me but I do not recognize you."

She kind of wanted to laugh. It seemed so ridiculous that Damon be speaking so politely, with such a strong Southern accent at that. It was not a situation she would have ever imagined herself in.

This was a man whom, by the laws of nature she thought she had known, she should never have been able to meet.

Yet, here he was, and here _she_ was, and they were together.

"Caroline," she answered. She had no idea how to answer the second question so she turned her head into his chest, hoping that he'd let it go.

She found it kind of funny that she felt safe in his arms. And even funnier that seconds after a near-death experience she was thinking about how good Damon smelled.

_Cologne wasn't around in the 1860s, right? Oh gawd._

He pulled her tighter against his chest, picking up speed. _He must be freezing_, Caroline thought. Rigidly, she poked a hand out to run over his arms, in an effort to inspire whatever bit of warmth she could there. Her fingers met with a thin sleeve and even through that, she could feel the coldness crawling up his arm.

She could feel his gaze on her for a second. She suddenly noticed a light in the distance.

"Is that the Boarding House?" she asked thoughtlessly. Too late, she realized her mistake. Her chest constricted with the knowledge that he would call her out. She cringed slightly as he started to speak.

"Yes," was all he said.

She waited for the inevitable question but when it didn't come, she turned a surprised gaze up to him. He was staring straight ahead, none the least fazed. Disbelieving of her luck, she curled up tightly against him, still rubbing his arm. They remained in heavy silence until the Boarding House loomed up upon them. She breathed a sigh of relief when they brushed past the door (it had to be a side door, since it wasn't the entrance she was used to seeing) and, as she peeked, she found herself in what looked to be a kitchen.

Except that it was full of plain clay pots on wooden tables and things she could only describe extremely inaccurately as fireplaces along the walls. It screamed 'obsolete' to her (she imagined a sepia tone would fit what she was seeing better) but before she could look at anything in greater detail, she was whisked away and the scenery changed to that of a hallway.

And then, she was in a small room. She felt the rumble of his chest as he instructed one maid to run the hot water and undress her, and another to run and get clothes for her. He set her down lightly on the bed and stood back. She took the chance to look around.

The bed she was sitting on was pretty plain and simple, though it had a pretty white canopy. Beside it was a chest of drawers, with an oil lamp on top of it. The walls were slightly cracked and the floor was dull grey cement. She'd always imagined houses in the 1800s to be fancier, especially if Damon was from a rich and uppity family. Maybe he hadn't been rich?

She looked up, and found Damon staring at her strangely. His head was tilted in that irritating devil-may-care way she saw so frequently back in the present but his lips were the tiniest bit parted instead of delivering some smart-ass remark. He almost looked like he couldn't breathe. Her eyes met his and she had to look away immediately. Puzzled, and embarrassed for no reason, at his reaction, she looked down at herself and realized why.

When he'd set her down, the fur coat had slipped off and now her tank top and shorts were in full view. More obviously, so was her bare skin. He probably hadn't noticed it before in the dark. What she was currently wearing was considered indecent to him right now.

Was it weird that she felt kind of self-conscious then?

Blushing, and not really knowing why, she drew the coat tightly around her. She watched his face carefully as he blinked and cleared his throat, his Adam's apple bouncing up and down. His eyes, still the darkest blue she might ever see, met hers before flitting away.

"Miss Marissa will help you get warm and bring you a new set of clothes," he stated stiffly. With that, he was gone, the heavy wooden door closing behind him.

"Come, miss." She turned to see a black woman, presumably Miss Marissa, gesture to her from another door she had failed to see in her swift assessment of the room. Behind her, she could see the steam rising from the water in a tub. Perking up at the thought of a warm bath, she stood up.

"Thank you," she said, smiling back at the maid.

"You're welcome," she replied politely.

* * *

"Father, this is Miss Caroline."

Her gaze flitted from Damon to his father shyly. During her warm bath, she had decided to play the role of a lost, innocent girl, one who couldn't remember her past and knew no one she could go to. Hopefully they'd buy that story and prove to be sympathetic and hospitable.

Damon's father gave her a piercing look, lips pinched tightly. After a moment of scrutiny, his lips lifted into a warm smile, crinkles appearing at the sides of his eyes.

"Good evening, Miss Caroline. I am Giuseppe Salvatore. It was most fortunate that Damon was able to find you on time. I hear you would otherwise have been frosted to death."

Caroline nodded, feigning meekness and exhaustion. She tugged uncomfortably at her dress. Miss Marissa had lent it to her. She didn't remember corseting (as she was now deeming the act of being corseted) being so painful. She winced at the memory.

"If you may be so kind as to allow me to ask – what were you doing in the woods at such a late hour?" She felt Damon's gaze swing to her face then, and she swallowed.

"I was lost, Sir," she said, switching into actress mode, "I had been wandering in the woods all day, trying to find my way home." She scrunched up her face. "I can't remember anything before that…" For good measure, she conjured up tears (a very valuable talent).

_Give them the full waterworks_, she thought.

"Now, now, Miss," Giuseppe said, looking very concerned, "It is fine. We'll be most pleased to let you stay here in the meantime and offer our assistance in any way we can."

She sniffed, looking at the men through her eyelashes. She let a watery smile grace her face. "Thank you, kind Sir."

Caroline kind of wanted to puke at that. Maybe she'd overdone it with the superfluous compliment? But it was true; she couldn't imagine anyone (in 2010 anyway) being so willing to let a _stranger_ stay in their house, especially without prior notice. They were either stupid or too nice.

"Now, Damon here will assist in showing you your accommodations. You must rest well, so that we can all have good peace of mind." He smiled sincerely before nodding dismissively for Damon to take her away. Damon held out his arm and, instinctively, she took it. As they walked down the corridor, Caroline looked over her shoulder. Giuseppe was watching them, a misty-eyed look on his face. When they reached the corner, Caroline looked up at Damon.

"You and your Dad don't get along, do you?"

He looked down at her in mild surprise and confusion. "Father?" At her nod (_seriously, when was the term 'Dad' invented?),_ he continued, "What makes you say that?"

"He didn't look at you," she said absently, enraptured by the grandiose of the Boarding House. It looked nothing like it did (or would). Its walls wore pretty wallpaper with golden and forest green patterns. Black and white pictures adorned the walls, some even ten feet tall. The ceiling rose high above them, creating quite an intimidating atmosphere, if she were alone. She could feel his piercing gaze on her.

"He didn't show any pride in you for saving me either. I didn't thank you for saving me," she suddenly realized, "So, um, thank you. Really." For some reason, his father not recognizing his heroism made her want him to understand how much _she_ appreciated his rescue.

Without thinking, she added, "I owe you one."

His eyebrows drew together. "You haven't taken any money or property of mine."

_Okay, seriously? 1864 blows._

"I mean," she said, clearing her throat, "I owe you a favour."

Damon nodded then, staring straight down the hall. Even without looking at him, she could feel the way he walked. He carried a certain charm and grace that guys she knew wouldn't know even if it hit them right smack in the middle of their foreheads. "That is not necessary."

"It's not really an obligation for me," she said, patting his arm lightly. He looked down at her hand, expression unreadable. "Okay, it sort of is. Kinda. _But_, I really do want to pay you back."

He looked a bit hesitant for a moment before a certain light entered his eyes. "Then, answer me this. What are you trying to achieve by being here?" he asked. The intensity of his blue eyes scared her.

"What?" she blurted out. Her heart skipped a beat. The conversation was quickly taking a downturn. Her grip on his arm slackened.

"You were acting in front of Father. However, Father's as blind as a bat." She stared up in shock at Damon.

_Translation: I wasn't fooled. You're not a lost girl._

_Shitsticks._

"I'm not pretending," she stuttered back. It was true though. She was _lost_. And it depended on whose definition of 'innocent' he was talking about, and she was taking hers.

"I do not mean to alarm you. I have surmised that you bear no ill will. I merely want to know why you are here."

_Shitsticks__ hit the fan. How the heck…?_

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Caroline argued, getting defensive. She tried to remove her hand from his arm but he held on fiercely. They stared at each for a long moment, both at a stalemate.

"I will find out why you are really here," Damon said softly. Caroline's mouth fell open a bit. He turned abruptly, pulling her gently along with him.

Caroline honestly had no idea how to react to that. Was she supposed to take that as a threat? What was she supposed to do? Panicked, she went for the change-the-topic move.

"_So_, why are you and your father on the outs?"

"On the outs?" Damon asked, as if nothing had happened and there was zilch awkwardness between them. She realized then that his bipolarity as a vampire had probably been amplified from that when he'd been human.

"I mean, why don't you guys get along?"

"You speak very strangely," was all he commented on her dialogue before a tint of bitterness one could only detect if they were listening carefully seeped into his voice, "Well, that's Father. He favours my brother over me."

"Stefan?" Caroline asked. _Shit_, she thought. _You are so terrible at keeping a low profile._

He suddenly stopped in the middle of the hallway. She could feel his suspicious gaze on her face and, desperate, she tried to pull them forward. He didn't budge.

_Damn him and his muscles_, she thought viciously.

Then, without another word, Damon was pulling her forward again. They walked in tense silence (at least for Caroline) for a while before her curiosity got the better of her nerves.

"Is your father always like this?"

"Which of my Father's many qualities are you speaking of?" From his tone of voice, she could tell he probably meant _lack _of qualities.

She cleared her throat. "I mean, is he always" – she gestured randomly with her free hand – "_this_ nice to strangers?"

Damon nodded. She noticed the way his eyes flashed. "Father always goes out of his way to welcome travelers and wanderers." She could practically hear the unsaid '_But not for me'_. "He has a certain soft spot for women though. Especially those with sun-burned hair."

"Why?" Caroline asked. She thought of her own hair, absently pulling at the ends.

"They remind him of my mother."

She could guess enough from his tone that she had died. It was kind of weird finding out more about Damon. She had never seen Damon as someone else other than the snarky, impudent man he was (or would be. Gawd, technicalities!). When she looked up at him, she saw an honest, raw sorrow in his eyes before he blinked and it disappeared. She decided not to touch that subject. Just as she was about to ask another question, a man appeared at the end of the corridor. Her eyes widened as Damon waved, smiling.

_Yup, definitely bipolar._

"Stefan!"

The green-eyed man grinned widely. "Damon," he greeted enthusiastically, walking over to them. He turned his gaze to Caroline. "And who might this be?"

"This is Miss Caroline. Father has decided to let her stay for a few days."

"Good evening Miss Caroline," Stefan murmured, bowing while keeping his eyes on her. "You look lovely." Caroline smiled unsurely. Stefan had always been chivalrous and nice but this was on a totally new level.

"Hey," she said, not knowing what else she could say.

Stefan looked confused. "_Hay_?"

"Never mind," Caroline muttered, looking away.

"I must apologize; I am in a rush. I shall bid you a temporary farewell," Stefan said, smiling at them both. "I hope you find your stay pleasant." With that, he was off. Before he turned the corner, she glimpsed an old leather book in his hands.

"Seriously, why do you guys speak like that?" Caroline asked, completely frustrated. "I mean, you could just say 'see ya!' or 'later' instead of _temporary farewell_." She made a face.

"I am pretty sure 'ya' isn't an English word. In fact, it is the sound babies make when they want milk."

Caroline snorted. He grinned at her. A question popped into her head just then. "Uh, what time is it?"

Damon dug into his vest, pulling out one of those old pocket watches she'd seen on TV. It glistened in the light as he popped it open. "A quarter past nine."

"And, what date is it?"

"It is the fourth of February." He looked at her, puzzled. "Do you not know this?"

"I'm very forgetful," she fibbed. She could practically feel his suspicion mounting.

They reached her room then. Damon opened the door for her, lighting an oil lamp. "I hope you are pleased with your accommodation."

She gaped. The room was huge. Her bed itself had to be bigger than a king-sized and it didn't even take up half of the space. There was a huge window to her right, yawning as its silk curtains fluttered slightly. The floor was covered by a soft carpet. The light flickered over the furniture, creating soft shadows that made it even more mysterious.

She was conscious of Damon's gaze on her as she practically bounced into the room. She threw her bag unceremoniously onto a chair and flopped onto the bed. It was so soft.

"Thanks," she said awkwardly. Thankfully, he didn't hover. He nodded once before closing the door.

Staring at everything, she almost forgot she was here just to complete a dangerous mission.

Almost.

_Oh, Elena._

* * *

The carriage rumbled softly along as it traveled through the forest. If she had nothing to think about, she might think it eerie how many shadows there were in the woods even in such darkness. Emily sighed.

"Emily, what are you thinking about?" Katherine inquired, gazing apathetically at her handmaiden and witch.

"Nothing, mam."

She knew Miss Katherine must not find out about Caroline's purpose until the right moment. That was crucial. She hummed softly under her breath, letting her mind reach out to the warm depths.

A vision bloomed into view. It arrested her every limb, freezing her and locking her attention. All sound was sucked away for that second. She saw a nightmare in a single moment. There was blood running streaks everywhere, and it was _dark, dark, darker_.

Her eyes popped open, her fingers clutching her skirt. She was only half-aware of Katherine's calculative eyes on her face. She was too busy trying to wrap her head around what she had just seen. It couldn't be. But her visions were never wrong.

Caroline was going to die.


	5. Chasing the Past

**Our Playlist  
**_Chapter four: Chasing the Past_

_I don't know where I'm at  
__I'm standing at the back  
__And I'm tired of waiting  
__Waiting here in line, hoping that I'll find  
What I've been chasing  
_**- Down, Jason Walker**

**

* * *

**

**Recap:**

_The carriage rumbled softly along as it traveled through the forest. If she had nothing to think about, she might think it eerie how many shadows there were in the woods even in such darkness. Emily sighed._

"_Emily, what are you thinking about?" Katherine inquired, gazing apathetically at her handmaiden and witch._

"_Nothing, mam."_

_She knew Miss Katherine must not find out about Caroline's purpose until the right moment. That was crucial. She hummed softly under her breath, letting her mind reach out to the warm depths._

_A vision bloomed into view. It arrested her every limb, freezing her and locking her attention. All sound was sucked away for that second. She saw a nightmare in a single moment. There was blood running streaks everywhere, and it was dark, dark, darker._

_Her eyes popped open, her fingers clutching her skirt. She was only half-aware of Katherine's calculative eyes on her face. She was too busy trying to wrap her head around what she had just seen. It couldn't be. But her visions were never wrong._

_Caroline was going to die._

_

* * *

_

She hadn't slept well.

The sun wasn't that high up in the sky when she stretched languidly, but that only emphasized how long of a day she had ahead of her.

_Today is the day everything _really_ starts_, she thought, rolling onto her side and gazing out of the window. The prospect of what loomed ahead effectively drained the flittering birds and gently swaying trees of colour. Spring was coming and yet she couldn't appreciate the beauty of it.

Caroline sighed, forcing herself to get up and accept the situation. She'd already agreed to do it.

"_How will I return to Mystic Falls? I mean, as we now know it?" Caroline asked, trying to hide her anxiety. "Or am I going to be stuck in 1864 forever?" She blanched at the idea. As much as she wanted to save Elena, she didn't like the idea of growing old and dying in 1864. She liked the __21st century, thank you very much._

"_I tried finding a spell where you could stay in the desired time period until the deed was completed but the grimoire doesn't have one. The best I can do is cast a spell allowing you to stay there for a designated length of time."_

Hopefully not a decade_, Caroline thought._

"_You have two months. At exactly midnight of the sixty-first day," – _Cinderella much_, Caroline thought – "you will return to Mystic Falls, whether you manage to… kill Katherine or not," Bonnie said, stumbling over the last bit. She couldn't meet her friend's eyes. Caroline understood._

_Everything was riding on her once Bonnie did the spell. If she failed to come through, Elena really would be gone forever and… She couldn't imagine losing Bonnie too._

_No pressure. At all._

_She accidentally met Damon's gaze from across the room and he gave her a look. She gulped. Two promises. Were they easier to keep when compelled? She knew her will would totally be into the mission, but the question now was in her ability to succeed. She could only hope._

She made her way over to the connecting door, pushing it open to reveal a grand bathroom. It reminded her of the Titanic – golden and perfect. And intimidating. This place fell right out of a 19th-century-London-set movie and that made it seem unreal. Unbelievable.

_Please have toothbrushes_, she prayed.

Luckily, they did. Albeit for the fact that the toothbrush looked more like a hairbrush, and had a wooden handle and tough, gum-ripping bristles, her teeth had surprisingly never felt cleaner. The toothpaste was a little on the spicy side though.

She grabbed her bag and overturned it on the table, allowing all its contents to fall out.

_Phase One._

It might have felt a bit ludicrous, if she fought the haze surrounding her brain.

In her right hand was her iPhone 3.

"_Drink this," Bonnie instructed, handing Caroline a tiny vial of lime green liquid. Taking it gingerly, Caroline scrunched up her nose._

"_It looks like sewage water," she said quite plainly, shooting Bonnie a look. Her friend just shrugged._

"_What does it do?"_

"_It's something similar to that Luck Potion in Harry Potter," Bonnie said, smiling a little, "I think J.K. Rowling might have been a witch herself, because some of the potions she mentioned in her books are actual potions, albeit under different names."_

"_So…" Caroline looked down at the potion in wonder, "this will show me everything I should do to achieve our goal?"_

"_Yup," Bonnie confirmed. "That will only last for a day though. Take any more than that vial at once and your body can't take it. Grams had a whole stock of it in her basement, so this" – Bonnie then brought out a Gatorade bottle full of the lime green potion – "will last you the sixty-one days."_

"_Not sure a Gatorade bottle is era-appropriate," Caroline commented, giggling slightly. With Bonnie's encouraging look on her, Caroline uncapped the vial and swallowed its contents. It tasted sweet, like crayola crayons and cotton candy._

_Caroline's mind suddenly went crystal clear and a single thought entered her mind. She blinked before walking around the room, picking up all the electronic devices in her sight and placing them in her bag._

"_Uh, what are you doing?" Bonnie asked, eyebrows raised._

"_I know I'm going to need these," Caroline said purposefully, stuffing her camera in. Bonnie plucked the iPhone 3 from her friend's hands, holding it up._

"_I believe _this_ is definitely not era-appropriate." She tossed it onto the bed._

"_The Potion wants what the Potion wants," Caroline replied, pursing her lips as she went to retrieve the phone. "And the Potion gets what it wants." She pocketed the phone neatly._

"_Tell me Caroline Forbes did not just say that," Bonnie laughed._

_"Then I'd be lying," Caroline replied, smiling a little._

_

* * *

_

The first step was finding out if Katherine was here, or when she would be. Exiting her room quietly, she took note of the time on the clock in the hallway (fifteen minutes past nine) before walking in the way Damon had taken her from. She didn't have a clue about what to do, and the Potion only helped if she had a goal in mind. Sighing, she merely hoped she'd happen upon a maid or resident that she could ask about Katherine's arrival.

She was at the junction of four corridors (seriously, how HUGE was this house?) when she heard voices coming from the right. Male voices – perhaps Damon's and Stefan's? And an older, deeper one… Giuseppe? She stepped down that corridor, leaning against the wall for no real discernible reason. She stopped outside the second door.

"–will be away for a week for a series of conferences with manufacturers in New York. While I'm gone, Miss Pierce and her handmaiden Ms. Bennett" – Caroline stiffened; was he talking about Emily? Bonnie's ancestor? That meant Miss Pierce was Katherine! - "are due to arrive on the eighth. Please be good hosts. Miss Pierce was recently orphaned; her entire family perished in a savage fire. I expect you _both_ to welcome her sincerely."

"Of course, Father." _That must be Stefan_, Caroline thought.

There was silence before Giuseppe spoke again, this time distinctly annoyed. "And you, Damon? I demand absolute cooperation."

Through the door, she heard a throat being cleared before someone, presumably Damon, said, "Yes."

"Good. Thank you boys. You may leave now." She heard the scraping of chairs as the boys stood up.

"Oh, one more thing. Damon, perhaps you will visit Miss Caroline to see how she's adjusting and liking her environment."

Caroline blanched before fleeing, not waiting around to hear the rest, if there was any. She came across the junction and glanced in all the possible directions. _Shitsticks!_ In her panic, she couldn't remember which way would take her back to her room. If she wasn't in her room when Damon came…

She gulped.

Behind her, the door opened.

* * *

"_I know there's a lot of pressure on you," Bonnie started slowly. Caroline looked over from where she was stuffing a tank top into her bag._

"_I can't imagine how you're dealing right now. I know you have the Potion but that doesn't mean you're invincible or anything."_

"_Thanks, Bonnie," Caroline muttered wryly._

"_No! I didn't mean it like that," Bonnie rushed on, her slight grin apologetic, "What I _meant_ was that it must be a really hard task, not knowing how things could go, having all that pressure on you, especially in a different century on top of everything."_

"_Again, _thanks_, Bonnie," Caroline said, laughing a little._

"_Argh, that's not what I meant. I'm terrible at this, aren't I? It was so much easier with Elena. She always knew what I meant…" Bonnie sat with a deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression on her face as Caroline blinked. Was she _seriously_ comparing her to Elena? Saying that it was _her_ fault that Bonnie couldn't get her encouragement across, that it was _her_ fault that Bonnie felt impotent to help?_

"_You know what I meant," Bonnie tried awkwardly._

"_Do I?" Caroline asked softly._

"_I just meant that I'm here to help you. And you have my support throughout the mission. I won't be mad at you if you can't kill Katherine, okay?"_

_They both knew that the last one was a lie._

_"Okay," Caroline said anyway. Like she had a choice._

_

* * *

_

It was like an action movie nightmare.

She dashed through the hallways, slamming herself around every corner she came to as the panic bubbled up within her, threatening to consume her. Her footsteps sounded like thunderclaps to her ears even though she was putting every ounce of her strength into moving quickly but quietly. A picture on the wall budged as she brushed past it.

_Oh gawd_, she gasped in her mind, _where is that darn room?_

Her fast heartbeats vibrated through her like the sound of drums in the air. Reaching a junction, she looked left and right, her hair flying all about her face as she tried to catch her breath. Damn this house for being so huge!

She didn't want to consider the possibility of Damon reaching her room before she did. Just the thought of it made her shiver. Unable to stand the wait, unable to stand the indecision, she jerked to the right, hoping that, by some holy miracle, she found her room soon.

As if her prayers were answered, at the end of the corridor was the door she remembered Damon leaving her behind. Panting, she dove forward, twisting the knob and collapsing into the room, legs entangling in her haste. She tripped, falling forward, but managed to catch herself before faceplanting. Heaving, she slammed the door close and leaned against it.

_Too close._

"Well, well" – her head snapped to the right; a silhouette stood in the shadows of the wall – "Miss Caroline slamming doors and retreating to her room without a breath. Do we have an eavesdropper?"

_Not close enough._

_Shitsticks._

_

* * *

_

"_I don't think I can cast a spell on you that will still work if you go to a different time period. But I made something that will allow you to contact us." At that, Caroline's mood lifted. She watched as Bonnie pulled out a few coins from her pocket._

"_I enchanted them so that when you place them on or in frozen water and think of a person, you instantly get a connection to that person, wherever they are. But you have to be careful. The connection will time out depending on how much water there is. The coins will absorb the water as the connection proceeds."_

"_So, the more water, the longer we can stay in contact," Caroline breathed, taking the coins from Bonnie. They were just run of the mill dimes but if she looked closely, she would notice that the metal reflected more light that normal dimes did._

"_Precisely."_

"_Why frozen water though?" Caroline asked. She doubted 1864 had fridges. And if the summer then was as hot as the summer now…_

"_I might have enchanted the coins but they still need to be activated by some kind of energy source. Frozen water is parallel to freezing time, in most spells. And when you freeze time, you'll be able to bridge worlds running in different times. Only the people you contact will be able to see you and move."_

"_That is seriously cool."_

"_Yeah, it is," Bonnie said, smiling, "but you have to be careful. Get it into the wrong hands and –"_

_There was a knock on the window. Bonnie's head turned to the noise so quickly she was surprised she hadn't snapped her neck. Crouched on the branch outside was Matt, an apologetic look on his face._

"_Does he do that on a regular basis?" Bonnie asked, noticing Caroline's lack of shock and, more prominently, the soft look and small smile on her face._

"_Most nights," Caroline replied, opening the window._

"_Hey," she whispered, leaning out to peck Matt on the lips before moving aside to let him enter._

"_Hey Care," he greeted, tumbling in, "Hi Bonnie."_

"_Hey Matt."_

"Mutt_," Matt corrected, tossing a confused look at Bonnie. "We've been friends our whole lives and you still don't know my name?"_

_Both girls' eyes widened. "_What_?" Bonnie choked._

"_What's wrong with you, Matt?" Caroline asked, reaching over to feel his forehead. Matt rolled his eyes, catching her hand._

"_It's _Mutt_. And, I'm fine," he said. "It's you guys who are confused."_

"_Your name's _Matt_," Caroline impressed upon him, "_Matt_."_

"_No, it's _Mutt_," he emphasized impatiently._

_Bonnie and Caroline exchanged worried looks before an inkling of realization seeped into her mind. Matt was really serious about Mutt. Robotic even. And the nurse said he'd been to see her last night, the same night Damon had visited… Would Damon really have…? She cursed in her mind. Oh, he better not have. She had to confirm her suspicions._

"_Hey, the nurse said you visited me last night."_

"_Really? That's weird. I was at home last night, sleeping like the dead. When I heard you got out, I came over but you weren't home."_

"_Oh, I had some errands to run," Caroline said distractedly, sharing a knowing look with Bonnie. It clicked with Bonnie within seconds._

"_Care, I knew you were neurotic –"_

"_I'm not!"_

"–_but can't control freak mode wait another day?" Matt asked, looking a bit amused, "You just got out of the _hospital_, which you were in because of _internal bleeding_."_

_Bonnie's cross look morphed into a look of concern. "I forgot… in the heat of everything. You sure you can do _it_ so soon?" she asked, "We can postpone it a day or two…"_

"_I'll be fine," Caroline assured her, just as Matt shot Bonnie a look of disbelief._

"_You _forgot_ Caroline was in the _hospital_ because of a _car crash_? What about Elena? Did you forget about her too? You weren't at the funeral."_

_Bonnie looked from Matt to Caroline, a deer-in-the-headlights expression on her face for the second time in three minutes. Caroline placed a hand on Matt's shoulder, trying to assuage him. "It's fine. Bonnie didn't forget. And, she told me she was really sick that day."_

"_You know what? I'm going to go. I told you everything I came to tell you tonight anyway. Plus, there is a second dude I have to deal with," Bonnie said, a dark look flashing across her face as she thought of Damon. As she grabbed her bag and hitched it over her shoulder, she shot Caroline a significant look. "He's the second guy in a total state of delusion if he thinks he can get away with what he did."_

"_What are you talking about? Who is he? Bon, did he hurt you?" Matt asked, concerned, "Is that what you meant by 'heat of everything'?"_

_Caroline wanted to laugh at how clueless and far her boyfriend was from the truth. Looking at her friend's face, she could tell Bonnie wanted to giggle too._

"_No, nothing of that sort," Bonnie said, waving away his questions. "I gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow, Care."_

_She was down the stairs before Matt could say another word. Caroline quickly tucked away her smile as Matt turned to her, bewildered. "What's Bonnie not telling me?"_

"_Girl code. Ergo, my lips are sealed," Caroline said, zipping her lips as she pulled Matt to her bed. "But a guy didn't hurt her." Someone else did._

_Truthfully, with everything that had been going on, she hadn't expected Matt to pop into her room. __She spent a moment being grateful that he hadn't arrived when Damon had been here, and then the next one being pissed at Damon for manipulating her boyfriend, before letting herself be taken into the arms of the guy she loved. She sighed, relaxing._

"_I'm just glad you're okay," Matt whispered into her hair, "If something had happened…"_

"_Elena did," Caroline said, gravel in her voice._

_They were silent for a while before Matt sighed. "I can't… lose anyone now. I'm not in a position where I can deal if anyone else leaves me."_

"_I'm not going anywhere," Caroline whispered back, even though it broke her heart to have to say that. Matt was about to say something else but Caroline hushed him, unable to bear the thought of lying again._

"_Shh. Don't speak."_

_They let the unspoken go out into the night as they cradled each other._

Caroline let a single tear drop, imagining the feel of Matt's arms around her and his warm cheek against hers. What was he going through back home? She told him she wasn't going anywhere and, well, she had. Without saying goodbye. She was such a bitch.

And she was totally alone here, even if she recognized some faces. How strange it was to have a face match her memory and not have that person touch that memory in the same way. As far as she was concerned, they were aliens. Now, she could only crave a human's touch, hunger for it.

She had never felt so empty and full at the same time before.

If the world crashed down, it would be her fault.

If _her_ world crashed down… Well, it already had.

* * *

When he found her, she was sitting at the foot of the bed, on the outside edge of the rectangle of pale moonlight seeping into her room. Quietly, he crouched to her level, peering at her face. The tears on her face that glistened like fairies' magic made her even prettier.

"Tell me," he whispered gently.

It was a while before she spoke, her voice brittle.

"I miss home." This truth, of hers, meant different things to them.

He nodded, his fringe casting an abyss of shadow over his eyes. His nose rose like a cliff from the darkness. She feared to see the rest.

"So do I." And with those eight words between them, he sat beside her and just like that they stayed for two minutes, three hours, five.

They didn't bother to count.

* * *

"_You _compelled_ my boyfriend?" was the first thing Caroline said when Damon popped in through the window the next day._

"_Times like this make me wish I hadn't given you vervain," Damon muttered, "You know, last night, Bonnie so _eloquently _dealt me a hit and scold."_

_"Well, you deserve it. __Why did you do it?" Caroline asked, eyes flashing._

"'_Times like this' refers to 'every time you open your mouth', jsyk."_

"_Matt is walking around town at this very moment, probably telling Tyler or somebody that he's 'Mutt, not Matt'! How could you? Is this funny to you?" She let him know her rage._

_Apparently though, her rage didn't touch him. "Since you asked, _yes_. It's quite hilarious, actually." He grinned disarmingly at her._

"_It is not! Now, the man I love is making a complete idiot out of himself, thanks to some supernatural dickhead!"_

"_Supernatural dickhead?" Damon repeated, amused._

"_Yes, you!" Caroline clenched her fists to refrain from screaming._

_Damon tilted his head, looking at her. Caroline stared right back at him. Eventually, Damon groaned, shaking his head. "Fine. I wanted the running humour to last for at least five years but since Blondie is being such an obnoxious brat –"_

"I'm_ the obnoxious brat?"_

"–_I will compel obnoxious brat's boyfriend to change his name."_

"_Back t__o _Matt_," Caroline snapped, catching the loophole._

_Damon cursed, pouting. "And here I was going to change it to Grenadine." When Blondie's face didn't change, he tapped her nose, moving past her to the bed._

"_When the wind changes, your face will be stuck like that forever. Grenadine would probably dump you in a second."_

"_You're such an ass!" she cried, throwing a pillow at him. He caught it deftly, smirking when a ghost of a smile showed itself on Blondie's face._

"_Only one bag?" he asked, looking over at where it sat on the bed._

* * *

**August ****2010**

Damon had never wanted to be a vampire.

Even when he'd seen Katherine's true self (the blood red eyes, running blood veins and sharp teeth) and thought it dangerously beautiful (or beautifully dangerous; he could never decide), he'd never wanted to turn into one. It was the kind of great and terrible beauty one liked seeing but shied desperately away from having.

That was the whole reason he hated his brother and had vowed to make his existence miserable. His brother had forced him to turn, even when he'd explicitly refused to. In more than one ways, he found that irrevocably selfish of his brother, the brother he'd given everything for and to when human. He'd fearlessly shielded him from Father's wrath, helped him picture a mother he'd never known and even _shared_ the love of his life (back then anyway) with him. If he thought about it in a drunken rage, he'd realize how selfless and stupid he'd been.

He'd always been brave about a lot of things but taking his own life was not one of them. He just couldn't muster the courage and strength to off himself, even in such a bitter, awful eternal state. Maybe because he'd grown to like being a vampire over time or maybe because he now had a reason to live (he whispered her name in the cold silence). Either way was enough, yet not.

Enough for now, not enough forever.

Hence, there was no way he could kill himself _by himself_.

He needed someone to do it for him (even though he loathed dependency; he'd long discovered no one could really depend on anyone else besides themselves).

As much as it shamed him to admit, Elena's death, no matter how terrible and tragic, was convenient. Under no other circumstance would Bonnie the witchy bitch ever help him – it was a fact truer than Stefan's love for the human girl. After the shock and anger at Elena's murder and Katherine the Bitch, a poisonous little thought had seeped into his head. This was the perfect opportunity to get what he'd subconsciously wanted all his undead life. To stop himself from turning in the very beginning.

Perhaps that was why he'd never deserve beautiful, kind, gentle Elena. Perhaps that was why so many thought Stefan to be a better man than him. But, quite honestly, he didn't care all that much about it because he was avenging Elena's death at his own expense. He'd found that there had been moments when she was still alive that he would lay down his life for her, damned the consequences.

If that didn't warrant him any right to a bit of selfishness, he didn't know what did.

So, maybe he was wrong for having an ulterior motive in asking Bonnie to do that time-travel spell. It didn't matter anyway. The spell was still going to be done. He was still helping Elena in the end. He was just glad that Bonnie was such a self-righteous do-gooder and that Stefan was as dumb as a toothpick.

_Caroline._

The face of the beautiful, albeit insipid, girl appeared in his mind. He hoped she managed to kill Katherine and him. If not, he'd have to start from scratch. He vaguely wondered how he would know if she killed him. If he would simply disappear or crumble in unimaginable pain. He didn't know whether he would be relieved or scared.

He saw the headlights flashing down the road, climbing up the dark slope. He ran laps around the car, smirking a bit at how slow Stefan was driving. As they crested a hill, he jumped in on them, opening the door and sliding onto the backseat, startling Bonnie in the front. He grinned widely, making himself comfortable. Bonnie raised her eyebrows.

"You'll get used to it," Stefan muttered.

"Let's catch this Katherine girl," Damon said.

* * *

**a/n**: did you notice the _stick it_ reference? :D

this chapter was a lot of flashbacks and sadness over milk and tea. i thought it was moving too slowly, since this _is_ a time travel fic and we were stuck like superglue in the present. that's why i had to go back and run over missing things. without the flashbacks, it might have seemed like she was going back to 1864 extremely unprepared and overly OKAY, with just her skin and the clothes on her back.

relationships are also really important, which is another reason i had those flashbacks. there's now more 2010 material to compare 1864 to, as the chapters spin on. maybe then can caroline's feelings be more easily understood and, hence, felt.

also, i hope damon's motives are clearer and, ergo, the premise of this story (going back to 1864) more plausible. i know a trip to 1864 would have seemed really stupid in the first chapter but now, hopefully that isn't the case. i was counting on damon's desire to return, and bonnie being all save-as-many-lives-as-possible and buying his excuse, to allow it to happen.

and that is the last time i ever write such a bloody long a/n.


	6. Unexpected Turn

__

**Our Playlist  
**_Chapter Five: Unexpected Turn_

_Our song is the slamming screen doors,  
Sneakin' out late, tapping on your window  
When we're on the phone and you talk real slow  
'cause it's late and your mama don't know  
Our song is the way you laugh  
_**- Our Song, Taylor Swift**

_

* * *

_

**Recap:**

____

Her fast heartbeats vibrated through her like the sound of drums in the air. Reaching a junction, she looked left and right, her hair flying all about her face as she tried to catch her breath. Damn this house for being so huge!

_She didn't want to consider the possibility of Damon reaching her room before she did. Just the thought of it made her shiver. Unable to stand the wait, unable to stand the indecision, she jerked to the right, hoping that, by some holy miracle, she found her room soon._

_As if her prayers were answered, at the end of the corridor was the door she remembered Damon leaving her behind. Panting, she dove forward, twisting the knob and collapsing into the room, legs entangling in her haste. She tripped, falling forward, but managed to catch herself before faceplanting. Heaving, she slammed the door close and leaned against it._

Too close.

"_Well, well" – her head snapped to the right; a silhouette stood in the shadows of the wall – "Miss Caroline slamming doors and retreating to her room without a breath. Do we have an eavesdropper?"_

Not close enough.

Shitsticks.

* * *

_The cold breath of night clung to her skin, leaving it tingling unpleasantly, whipping her __thin nightgown this way and that. She hugged herself as she stumbled down the gravel path, the full moon hanging low over her, pulsing down a fierce white of eeriness. She wondered how evil this place really was, if even just the moon could creep her out. The dark woods that flanked her seemed to inch closer as her feet, bitten by the sharp rocks and freezing wind, carried her onto the field._

_The diamonds in the sky winked down at her._

_In the pale moonlight, the plain looked elegantly white-washed. The tall blades of grass brushed her knees; she could feel them tugging gently at the hem of her nightdress, as if warning her to go back. Still, she forged onward, eyes – forced small by the burning chill – trained on the shadowy figure hunched in the distance._

_He heard the soft padding of footsteps as she neared. For a long while, he didn't move, simply staring straight ahead into the middle distance. When she was just a yard away, he turned, his eyes pouring over her shivering frame, innocent undergarments revealed through the translucent fluttering gown. When his eyes met hers, he saw her uncertainty, her fear. She saw an odd blankness in his._

_Quietly, she bent down to sit beside him. He shrugged off his coat, offering it to her. With a breathy silence passing between them, she accepted it and slung it over her shoulders, briefly wondering about his motivation behind the action. When he draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer, any doubt in her mind was extinguished._

_She hugged him close, pressing her lips against his shoulder, imagining the sound of him breaking on the inside, but it was his lips in her hair, whispering a song she could barely make out over the noisy wind, that stopped her tears from forming puddles on the ground._

* * *

The hand of the clock ticked like a bomb.

She shuffled through the papers on his desk, attention half on spotting her name and half on the door. Her heart pounded with a surprising fierceness as the papers tumbled through her fingers. She knew it was useless but she strained to hear movement outside the door, as if her hearing was actually good enough to detect footsteps from twenty feet down the hallway.

_Nathalia Horthman._

_Cynthia Copperfield._

_Mary Peterson._

There were so many names but the name she was looking for so desperately continued to evade her.

And then she saw it. _Katherine Pierce_. She grabbed the file –

"Stefan; haven't gone to bed yet?"

Eyes widening, heart racing, she tightened her grip on the papers and dived behind the couch. A foot caught around the leg of the sofa, eliciting a grunt of pain from her lips, but she managed to untwist it and scramble fully out of view before the older Salvatore brother entered the study.

* * *

"_What is this?"_

_She glanced over, frowning upon seeing what he was holding. Quickly snatching it away, she glowered at him._

"_You weren't supposed to see that."_

"_Well, I did. Please. Explain it to me." He saw her clenched jaw and sighed._

"_I have never seen such a remarkable item before."_

_She stared at him for a moment, taking in his serious, curious expression, before looking down at the phone she'd had for the past two months (after all, phones had seasons as well). It struck her as both weird and funny, and so it took her a while to laugh._

"_What is so funny?" Damon inquired, brows furrowing._

"_Nothing," she brushed off, trying to stifle her giggles. Through her half-closed eyes, she could see an irritated face. There was a tug within her chest and she suddenly knew what to do, her mind clearing. Silently, she offered him the item. He took it gingerly, inspecting it with the eyes of someone witnessing a miracle. Or a horror movie._

"_This," she said, "is a phone. You use it to call people. Of course, it doesn't work here but from where I came, it worked like a charm."_

"_What is this place you come from called?" he asked, wonder sparkling in his eyes._

Quick, think!_ She bit her lip. The first thing that came to her mind was "Um… The Jedi Palace." Except she pronounced palace as 'per-las'._

_Seriously. _That_ was the best she could come up with? She sighed._

"_I must visit this Jedi Palace at the first opportunity," Damon mumbled to himself.__ Then, he looked up sharply, as if something had suddenly occurred to him. The shadows splayed against his face in such a way that they hid his eyes._

"_You _do_ remember where you come from."_

_All Caroline could do was sigh. Why did he have to be so observant? Why did she have to be so _obvious_?_

_Shitsticks._

* * *

"Damon." His voice was surprised. Questioning.

From where she was sitting, she could see the dark-haired man stiffen and then straighten, throwing an unwilling smile at the man at the doorway. He closed the book he was holding. The ensuing thud seemed to resonate in the room.

"Father."

"Do you seek counsel with me?" Giuseppe inquired, adjusting his spectacles as he studied Damon.

"I merely wish to borrow a book."

Giuseppe's inquisitive stance seemed to melt as he turned disapproving. Taking a step closer, the words he spoke next were loud and deep.

"Men enshrouded in war do not read in their spare time. They stand ready to fight. They practice even when allowed home, so they may be prepared and strong for their next battle."

"I am of fit condition." Damon's voice rang clearly through the room, clipped at the end. "And, are you not too enshrouded in war? I doubt anyone is not." Giuseppe breathed in deeply, wrinkles culminating even more prominently on his forehead.

"I notice you have failed to enroll again for the war."

"Men do not bring violence to the fields during winter, Father, as you are well aware of. They'll lose their men not to the bloodlust of their enemies but to the ferocity of the weather." Damon swung his hands behind his back, drifting across the room to where Caroline hid. She drew in a breath as his leg brushed the couch. Damon stood, staring out the window.

Giuseppe drew his head back as if insulted. "I know that."

"As I had the patience to point out. Besides, I have expressed my wish to decline return, have I not?"

"I have already sent in a letter, dictating your consent to go _back_."

At that, Damon's head snapped to his right, eyes turning as dark as a windy night, focusing finally on his father. His head tilted, jaw clenching.

"I recall mentioning rather explicitly that I would _not_ return to a cause I did not see worth fighting for." This Damon said with the faint air of quiet control. Caroline shivered; she didn't think Damon realized how scary he sounded when he was angry.

"Your refusal to re-enroll quite disappoints me," Giuseppe argued. His mouth opened to continue but Damon cut him short.

"I have long since stopped caring about disappointing you, Father. Please take note."

"Good. Because that is something you always succeed at."

Damon shifted to fully face his father. "When will you accept that this is my choice? Be you obstructive or supportive, I am not Stefan. I will not follow blindly."

"Yes, you are not. Stefan is obedient and peace-loving; he embodies all the qualities of a Salvatore."

"I highly doubt those are qualities one should ever desire in a Salvatore," Damon quipped dryly. "And it's quite funny how 'peace-loving' you are. Very believable with your persistence in me returning to war." With that, Damon swept past Giuseppe, slamming the door behind him with enough force to rattle the house. Giuseppe closed his eyes, removing his glasses. With a low grunt, he silently shuffled over to his desk, settling himself into his straight-backed chair.

Caroline let out a shaky breath, pressing herself even more into the wall.

* * *

"_So, you trap what you can see on the screen in the camera? That is very cruel."_

_Caroline groaned, dropping her head into her palms. "The picture on the screen isn't real. It's just a copy."_

_Damon nodded, pressing random buttons on the camera, watching in awe as the lens grew out and shrunk into the front face._

"_Fascinating."_

"_Why don't you try taking a picture?" She leaned over his shoulder, reaching to point out the button to press. Their fingers brushed for a second but then she drew back. He turned around in his chair._

"_Of what?" he asked._

"_Anything," Caroline replied, looking around the room, "The flowers on that table. The view from the window."_

"_May I take a picture of you?"_

_She glanced over at him, surprised. "W-why?"_

"_You said I may take a picture of anything."_

_She watched him twiddle with the buttons. "Um, okay."_

_He aimed the camera at her as she flipped out her hair and settled herself beside the window._

"_Cheese!"_

_The flash blinded her for a second._

"_Cheese?" Damon inquired, eyebrows drawn, as he looked down at the camera, seeing the replica develop bit by bit right in front of his eyes. "What does that food have to do with the camera?"_

"_Oh, it's just something we say before we take a picture."_

"_Ah," he murmured. "Your people have such queer customs."_

_Caroline walked over to him, bending down to see the photo. She blinked, a slow grin forming on her face. With the beginning-of-spring scene framed by the solid mahogany of the window and her __in the picture (come on, let's be honest. She looked good all the time), the shot was actually really good. Not to mention the brilliant rays of sunshine that beat down on the photo, casting circles of rainbows._

"_Beautiful," she gasped, staring at the display._

"_I agree," he said, glancing a second too long at her._

* * *

_How the heck am I going to get out of here?_

Giuseppe did not look like he was going to get up and go any time soon. He was currently flipping through the thickest book she had ever seen (seriously, it looked like two encyclopedias glued together), his front facing her. If she moved or made a sound, he would definitely catch her. Panic flared in her chest and she gulped down a mouthful of air. Her leg jammed into the leg of the sofa. Giuseppe looked up sharply for a moment before shaking his head and going back to his reading.

_Think calming thoughts. Um, uh, think about how much the neighbour's cat love__s marshmallows!_

She was afraid to even peek around the edge of the sofa in case he caught her. Straining her neck as far as she dared to, her eyes searched every inch of what she could see. Two doors on her left, the one Damon had entered and one next to Giuseppe's desk. It was closed and, looking more closely, locked. The key hung from its keyhole.

Shifting ever so carefully, she managed to drag herself over to the other side of the sofa. Through the narrow gap between the sofa's arm and a heavy-set side table, she could make out a glimpse of the window she had seen when first entering the room. It was closed and latched tightly but she could make out a ledge just outside, the roof of their veranda.

_Do __I dare…?_

She gulped.

* * *

_The short hand was closing in on four._

_Damon snapped his pocket watch closed and replaced it, leaning forward to see her progress. She finished the last few strokes, smiling with satisfaction and jerking the picture towards him, stretching her arms in a celebratory motion._

"_There! That's your very own TV set."_

"_TV?" Damon inquired, peering eagerly at the strange looking device. From what he could tell, it really just looked like a box with two antennae._

"_It stands for television –"_

"_It looks like a one-eyed bug."_

_Caroline blinked before bursting into giggles. Damon raised his eyes from the odd picture to watch her cup her mouth with her hands, rocking back and forth in her chair. She was really quite adorable, although he couldn't fathom why it was funny. It _did_ look like a bug._

"_Look, does it not look like a bug? It's got two antennae."_

_Caroline calmed down enough to gasp, "Yeah, but they're antennas. 'Cause they're for the television, to receive signals and stuff from satellites. They're responsible for the images that show up on the screen."_

"_A satellite?"_

"_Those things in outer space, you know? They receive transmissions."_

"_Wait, wait." Damon stopped her. He paused to think, trying to collect his confused thoughts enough to pose an understandable question._

"_I thought outer space was dead. Just planets and stars and galaxies… What are transmissions?"_

"_Transmissions are signals –" She cut herself off, eyes going wide as an 'oh' of sudden realization left her mouth. She had no idea how to go about explaining it without mentioning the technologies that were only developed years later. He still thought she merely came from another place, not another time. She wasn't even sure if he'd believe her if she told him the truth._

"_You know what, television is not even a real thing," she fibbed. But it technically was true. She didn't think they had TV sets until the early 1900s._

"_Then why'd you draw it?" he asked, a flicker of suspicion passing over his face. He shifted forward without knowing it but Caroline caught the action, leaning back into her chair a little more._

"_Um, you know, it was just mentioned a lot in my town. People love drawing new creations, you know? We're all, um, waiting for someone to invent it."_

_Damon nodded. "Ah." She could tell he didn't believe her._

"_What?" she asked, summoning firmness. She clenched her hands, trying to look fierce. "Do you think I'm lying?" The bolder the move, the less suspicious he'd be, right?_

_He took a long time to answer. Turning his gaze to hit her with the full impact of his blue, blue eyes, he drawled, "Yes, actually. But the truth will eventually come to light. I'm just waiting for you to realize that."_

_His blue orbs continued shining at her (she could actually almost _feel_ the heat of it) for a moment longer before he leaned back, picking up the picture again. Caroline let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding._

"_You draw really well," Damon muttered, "Unless the TV set isn't supposed to look like a bug."_

"_It's not a bug!" Caroline cried._

"_I guess you're not a good drawer then," Damon quipped, looking dryly at her._

_She closed her eyes and pursed her lips._

* * *

It had been more than half an hour.

She wanted to sigh really badly but kept a steady hand over her lips to catch any that might accidentally slip past.

He hadn't moved from that position at all. It had been like watching a statue, only that this statue grunted every twenty seven seconds and had the annoying habit of tapping his foot with every turn of the page, as if to mark it. The silence and the draining passage of time had allowed her thoughts to wander and every time they even threatened to brush a forbidden topic, as she now called them – _Matt, Elena, going home, happiness_ –, she willed her mind to blank and start again, like rebooting a corrupted computer.

Her thoughts also had the annoying tendency to include a certain older Salvatore. No, not Giuseppe, although she did wonder impatiently when he would leave the room so she could _finally_ return to her room and study the pages in the file (she hadn't started reading it yet, just in case he somehow heard the tiny whispers of their pages against one another). No, she was talking about Damon, the guy who was this close (here, she held her thumb and index finger an ant's pant's apart) to discovering who she really was. With the rate she was slipping up at and his incredible (and incredibly irking) observation skills, he'd probably figure out the truth within the week. She didn't even know why Bonnie's green potion wanted her to let Damon know more, know some of everything...

And there was that little issue of the glowing heat that erupted in her cheeks whenever he looked at her. It almost felt as if he could see into her soul…

She refused to go there.

_Shuffle._

She jerked up straight, cussing in her mind when her head hit the wall. Had he heard it? In her peripheral vision, she could see him setting the book down on the desk and leaning back into his chair, the image of relaxation. Her heart skipped a beat; was he falling asleep? Maybe he would drift off into a deep enough slumber for her to get out.

Underneath Katherine's file, she crossed her fingers.

* * *

"_Taylor Swift sounds nice," Damon consented, holding a single earpiece to his right ear, "But Justin Bieber sounds downright childish."_

_Caroline giggled. He was probably the only guy in the world that enjoyed listening to Taylor Swift._

"_How old is this Bieber man?" Damon asked, flicking through the playlist with surprising ease. She had, after all, only taught him how the controls of her ipod worked two minutes ago. There was none of the hesitance and slow blunders she'd been expecting._

"_Sixteen," Caroline answered, "At least from the year I come from."_

"_Huh?" Damon asked, eyebrows pulling together as he looked up. "The year you come from?"_

"_Uh, I meant place. I meant… place," Caroline quickly covered, stumbling, "Where I come from."_

_Damon raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "So… he's only sixteen where you come from. Over here, he's not?" She could hear the doubt burning in his voice._

_How the heck was she going to get herself out of this? She panicked._

"_Uh, uhm, we… we have different calendars! Yes, yeah, we have different calendars." She carried on, trying hard to ignore Damon's incredulous gaze. "Yours runs by the 365-days year run, right? Well, um, ours goes by a two hundred and, er, seventy days year run." Behind her back, she crossed her fingers._

_Damon stared at her for a few long seconds before leaning back in the chair, sighing. "So, you're saying… this Bieber man is only… eleven years old, according to my town's calendar?"_

"_That's exactly what I'm saying," Caroline agreed, a bright smile struggling to crystallize on her face. Damon continued staring at her, face now a smooth pokerface, making her sweat a bit, before shrugging and changing the song playing on the ipod._

"_Whatever you say, Caroline."_

_The way he said her name made her feel like he was indulging her and she shivered. She really had to stop messing up. He already suspected her… Sooner or later, he might even discover the actual truth._

"_What kind of music is 'Three Days Grace'?" Damon asked, reading off the screen. "I think this is my type of music."_

"_Rock," Caroline replied, smiling a little. As the heavy drum beats pulsed softly in the air, traveling the distance from his ear to hers, she couldn't help smirking a little as Damon nodded his head to the rhythm. It was almost hard to stop herself from reaching over and ruffling his hair…_

"_Are you okay?" Damon asked, staring at her weirdly. She realized she was leaning forward, hand poised mid-air._

_She drew back, forcing her hands down to her lap. "Yeah. Totally peachy."_

* * *

He looked like he was sleeping. Heavily.

Adrenaline pulsed through her as she lifted herself up slowly, fingers pressing delicately into the back of the sofa, urging her into a stand. Her eyes remained trained on his still figure as she crept out from behind the sofa. With bated breath, she inched across the carpet, glancing every now and then at the window. She didn't know where she could hide if he suddenly awoke; the nearest furniture was a few feet away. She tried not to think about it.

She let out a shuddering breath when she reached the window. Heart thudding loudly in her chest, she tucked the file under her forearm and fiddled with the latch, fingers trying to get a grip on it.

_Concentrate, Caroline!_ She admonished, glancing behind her to make sure Giuseppe was still sleeping. The simple task of opening the window had turned into a brief struggle as her hands, damp with nervous sweat, took an few extra precious seconds to lift it.

Behind her, Giuseppe stirred.

Freezing instantly, she waited a couple of seconds before urging the window open. She pushed it further out, an inch or two at a time, praying that the hinges didn't squeak. When it was wide enough to allow a small body to squeeze out, she allowed an uncertain smile to flicker across her lips. She was almost out.

But the window let in a cold draft. As she twisted a leg over, a voice came from behind her.

"Roselle."

She stiffened, whole body locking. The file started slipping from under her arm and it took every bit of will in her to force the file to hold, digging the edge of her elbow into her side.

This was it. She had been caught. The whole plan was over. She'd be thrown out of the house, if worse punishment did not await her, and she'd never be able to help Elena. She gulped, hot tears pushing against her closed lids before she began to turn her head sheepishly.

It was only then that she realized something. He'd said Roselle, not Caroline. Confused, she turned fully to face him.

Giuseppe was still asleep, but his mouth was open. She strained to hear him over the night wind's call. He was still mumbling, and she could hear random words here and there – "Roselle", "come back", "no". And weak whimpers punctuated his murmurings.

She frowned sadly. She'd bet all her magic coins Roselle was his wife. His dead wife. Still, she couldn't dwell on it. She still had to escape. She hoisted herself full over the window sill, landing as softly as she could on the ledge below. Above her, through the window, she heard him awaken. There was an urgent cry – "No, Roselle, don't jump! Wait!" – as loud footsteps thundered across his study floor. Eyes widening, she jumped up, racing along the ledge towards the edge of the building, where the ridge thinned. When it got too dangerous for her to move quickly, she leaned back, hugging the wall, and tip-toed across the outcrop, trying not to look down. If she could make it just another few feet, she could climb the decorative ladder up to her room, just a floor above.

He'd reached the window now. She slowed, tucking the file even more tightly into the crook of her arm, fingers digging themselves into the rough wall behind her to find any nooks and crannies to hold on to. She turned her head.

The moon emerged from behind a dense patch of clouds. The sudden leap from shadowy darkness to glistening snow-globe-white beams allowed her to see Giuseppe's face even from such a distance. Heartbreaking desperation gripped his face as he peered down over the veranda, eyes wide and searching. The wind carried his jumbled sobs to her.

"Roselle, _why?_ Why'd you leave? Why'd you leave me? _Why?_" Right in front of her, the man broke down, clutching the window sill for support. Something tugged at her heartstrings and she had to rip her gaze away from the scene to stop herself from shedding a tear. Looking back in front of her, the ladder was just out of arm's reach. She leaned forward…

For a dizzying moment, the world seemed to tilt and fall away beneath her, the cold wind rushing at her from all sides, but then she gripped a rung and the world righted itself, the depthless sky and the endless ground where they should be. Unsteadily, she scrambled up the ladder, tumbling through the window into her room. Her knees grazed the wooden floor and she hissed. She hadn't realized how cold it'd been outside, the adrenaline warming her body. Now, she could feel the deathly coldness of her skin.

She stood up shakily, moving to her desk. Dumping the wretched file onto the table, she was just about to open it when a moving figure caught her eye.

Through the other window, she could make out a tiny silhouette in the distance, a moving ruffle in the middle of a vast cornfield. With a weird lack of hesitance that she'd rather not ponder about, she practically threw herself out the window, clinging to the ladder as she dashed as fast as one could dash down a straight ladder.

She followed him into the cold, dead night.

* * *

**August 2010**

The bar was seedy, dim lights throwing shadows all over the gyrating bodies. He weaved gracefully through the crowd, attracting quite an impressive number of stares (and an equal amount of glares). He called for the bartender, leaning against the end of the counter. The girl next to him fluttered her eyebrows obnoxiously.

"What can I get you?"

"Bourbon. Light."

The bartender nodded, moving off to get it, but he was called back. Expectant, he turned around and instantly felt the world slipping to the side, a strange, quiet calmness settling around him, like he was floating underwater, sinking in fact.

"Have you seen a girl with long brown hair, about this height, with an annoyingly bodacious body and incorruptible arrogance?"

"Damon," came another voice, this one exasperated, and the bartender turned unseeingly, blank gaze settling on a short girl. "How is he ever going to find someone with that kind of description?"

"Actually, she was here. You just missed her by a couple of hours."

"Darn," the guy – Damon, he thought – muttered, faux-pouting. "Well, Judgy, I guess we're moving off."

"Do you still want your Bourbon?"

Damon turned back, smiling charmingly. "Sure. And it's going to be on the house."

"On the house," the bartender agreed, wandering off in a daze. Damon smirked. There was a small tap on his arm.

"You didn't have to compel him."

"Do you want to find Katherine or not?" he shot back, "Because vampires are hard to track and I'm not about to sit on some bench in some playground, searching the streets with binoculars and eating stakeout pizza. We just got lucky this time."

"You don't even need binoculars," Bonnie huffed, crossing her arms and turning her gaze to the crowd. "Where did Stefan disappear off to?"

"Right here," Stefan replied from behind her, causing her to jump slightly. Said vampire smiled apologetically down at her.

"Here." The bartender had returned. "A full bottle. On the house."

"How generous," Damon said, insufferable smirk back in place as he poured the alcohol into glasses. He offered one to Stefan, who took it reluctantly. Damon struck Bonnie with a pointed gaze.

"Let me guess. It's going to be a 'No, I'm not going to drink!', said in loud indignation and outrage. Figures." He tossed a shot back, already moving to pour himself another glass.

"No, I'll have one," Bonnie argued. The way he'd said that had been too smug and dismissive to pass her by. She looked for a look of approval or surprise on Damon's face, but all she found in the fleeting second the glimmering spotlight spun over his figure was a wholly satisfied smirk. He shoved the drink into her hands and she realized a second too late that that had been his plan from the start.

"Drink up." He tossed another shot back.

* * *

**a/n:** i did my research. the tv set first went commercial in the late 1920s. the first thing launched into outer space was some fruit flies and that was in 1947, by the united states. the dog Laika was sent up by Russians in 1957.


	7. a Scene from a Dream

**Our Playlist  
**Chapter six – A Scene from a Dream

**a/n:** just a filler. haven't written anything in a while. probably really different from my other stuff.

* * *

It was Tuesday, two days before Katherine was due to arrive, and she was teaching him swear words.

"Asshole?"

"Oh, I already know that one. Some guy in the army taught me that one." Damon tucked his arms behind his head, grinning in slight pride. He chewed on a bit of straw, looking very Huckleberry-Finn-like. She looked up at him from where she lay on the ground, chin propped up on the palm of her hand.

Looking out at the sprawling, sloping fields around her, with the Boarding House on a distant hill, it almost felt like she was in a dream, a very strange dream. Maybe she was a character in Alice in Wonderland, perhaps even Alice herself. There was a hole just like the one in the movie at the roots of a neighbouring tree. And she was wearing a blue dress with an apron over it, which resembled the animated character's own dress enough, she guessed.

"Jerkface."

"Jerkface," Damon repeated, sampling the way it rolled on his tongue, tasted in his mouth. There was something fascinating watching Damon speak. And it always thrilled her the way his voice penetrated her.

"Douchebag."

"I like that one." He laughed.

"It's actually kind of funny," Caroline said, giggling, "I was researching the meaning of it on Urban Dictionary and while it sits somewhere between asshole and motherfucker, it also is an object for vaginal hygiene. There's even this other definition where douchebag refers to any student or teacher teaching at a certain university… I forgot the name of it. Some university in Minnesota."

When she looked up at Damon, she was surprised to find a look of disapproval on his face.

"What?" she asked, bemused.

"I have never heard that vulgarity before, the one that starts with mother, but it sounds even worse than the usual variety." He gazed out to the middle distance, mildly disturbed by the conversation they were having. When he turned back to her, her eyes were as wide as saucers, her mouth wide open to catch flies. It was his turn to ask "What?"

"It's just…" she stuttered, not knowing what to say, "...Nothing." Damon in her time had used vulgarities sparingly, since he was witty enough to be able to insult someone at the same intensity as a swear word, but she had heard him use "motherfucker" once or twice when they were together. It just surprised her for a second before she remembered she was in 1864. Perhaps, subconsciously, she'd thought Damon's behaviour from when she knew him in the present was intrinsic, right from the start; it'd never occurred to her that he'd be a relatively good gentleman. The last few days hadn't overwritten her original impression of him.

"What?" Damon probed, curiosity full-fledged now. Great. She'd awoken a monster.

"Just… nothing," she said, hoping the dazzling smile she was giving him then would distract him. She saw him blink and look away for a second before he insisted again.

"Tell me."

She sighed, rolling onto her back to stare up at the limitless sky. Above, a bird flitted across from the trees. She vaguely hoped it didn't decide to unload its bowels anytime soon.

Truth be told, she sort of liked this… innocence in Damon. She pondered over whether innocence was the right word to describe him but considering he hadn't killed anybody (yet) and couldn't even say "motherfucker", she decided it was. "It's just… I didn't expect you to be squeamish about profanities. I sort of thought you'd be able to handle them better."

She tilted her head back. The world spun upside down and the grass tickled her forehead.

"I am… not," Damon protested, but she could still hear how uncomfortable he was. It screamed from the undercurrents of his voice.

"It's okay," she said softly. She realized this would be such a great opportunity to tease him, to get back, even if in such a tiny way, at him for the whirlwind of emotions he'd sent spiraling through her since Day One in 1864 and every bad thing he'd done to her or would do to her. But, somehow, she just couldn't, not with that adorkably sad face. "You don't have to say it if you –"

"Motherfucker," he managed to croak. She blinked, rolling over again to peer at her better. He looked vaguely like a man who'd just swallowed a lizard. At the back of her mind, she registered that he'd said his apparently 'most feared' swear word, for her. It made her heart flutter.

_This__is__ridiculous_, she thought, rolling her eyes mentally. She could imagine Elena and Bonnie's faces when she told them she felt flattered that Damon had said "motherfucker". Flattered! Imagine that.

She raised her eyes to meet his. He slid from his stance at the tree to lie beside her, though in the opposite direction. Their faces lay a foot away from each other.

"Shitface," she whispered.

"Shitface," he replied, a smile flirting with his lips.

"Fuck," she said louder, daring him to. He saw it in her eyes, the wonder of the unknown, the unpredictable.

"Fuck," he hollered. A couple of geese yards away squawked, almost indignantly, and flew off, gathering into a tight V formation.

She should be berating him for such foul language. She should be running away, scandalized. Instead, a bubble of giggles tore their way from her throat, bursting into the cool afternoon air, reaching for the sun. It started out haltingly, slowly, but soon enough gathered into a full-out giggle-fest. It was contagious by the looks of it because Damon started laughing too. It was unlike any laughter she'd ever heard before, a genuine, unbound laughter, and, becoming like some distressing cliché, she felt she could actually fall asleep listening to this lullaby of mirth.

Their fingers crept towards the other's without conscious permission.

A few days ago, she couldn't imagine being this happy with someone who'd destroyed her, at least some small part of her. She would think anyone nuts who told her she'd be lying on the grass under the sun, like in some fairytale, with some psycho-killer, like some nightmare.

Damon had this way of changing things.

* * *

_TBC_


End file.
